My name is Luna and I don't care
by zanthia122
Summary: COMPLETED: -RWLL- She can't say 'I don't care' anymore, because when everything is resolved, when he says 'I love you' to her, she finds that there IS something that she cares about, after all.
1. First Entry

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the HP universe. 

A/N: My first story written in first person, and this all feels very different from my other stories. Inspired by _Catcher in the rye. _Yeah.

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First entry:

I am not too crazy about writing, to tell you the truth. But then, it's supposed to be _good_ for my recovery. Not like I have any illness or anything, it's just that people keep making a big fuss out of nothing. So yeah, I guess I'll have to tell you my story, cause I don't know what else I'd write.

My name's Luna Lovegood. This is what I'm supposed to start off with, telling you my name. I suppose I should also tell you my age. I am seventeen and a seventh year in Hogwarts. Hogwarts is this school that all magical children go, all magical children in Britain and Ireland anyway. It is a nice school, really it is. We have this huge castle that I can still get lost in if I were in the mood, though I have been there for seven years. The Lake is okay I guess, but I am not too fond of the Forest. 

Okay. Fond. This is one of the words that I am supposed to, though I don't like to. Like. That's another word I am told to use often. I may as well tell you what I like, then. I don't like a lot of things, really. I sort of enjoy reading. I laugh sometimes, and I talk a little, should the need arise. 

I don't talk unless I really, really need to. We Ravenclaws are like that, you see. Hufflepuffs? They are always _dying _to talk to you. Griffindors talk a lot too, though sometimes they talk about boring stuff, like righteousness and bravery. But they are talking. Slytherins pretend that they are cool and all, that they don't talk much, but they do. Mostly they talk among themselves, and sometimes they are more _snapping _than _talking, _but if you struck the correct nerve- like asking them about the Dark Arts- then they'd go on for hours, if they trusted you enough, that is.Not us Ravenclaws, though. We are the clever bunch, and we are very sophisticated. Every word's weighed before it's spoken, so I get tired of talking with my fellow Ravenclaws. That's because if you keep on talking, it gets very disturbing after some time- like you can't think straight. So we, the supposedly clever ones, prefer calculating to communicating. That's one thing I like, thinking. I think a lot, because I don't talk. But maybe I don't talk because I think a lot. I don't know which.

There are always exceptions. Take my Dad. He's a Ravenclaw, but he talks _all_ day. He never stops. He keeps going on about some witch that cooked her socks, about rumors that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is in fact still alive, about some new creatures that he'd discovered lately. His favorite topics, though, are supper and weather. You get the picture, my Dad is not what you call an ordinary Ravenclaw. I must have got that from him.

Oh, and I do like animals, too. Especially owls and Puffskeins. I used to own one, Puffskein I mean, and it was a very cuddly, very soft pet. He allowed me to bounce him around. And boy, did I love him. But I don't know where had it gone. I don't care. That's one phrase you need to get used to, if you're going to read this. I say that a lot. Even in my own head, I say that a lot. I can't now, though. I can't say I don't care. He keeps saying that there must be something that I care. Trivial, maybe, but I must care about something. Something that when I see or hear, I get the urge to smile or cry or frown. _Anything._

But I told him there's nothing I cared about. Which was pretty true at the time I told him. I used to care about something, I told him, but then I cut it out. And I don't care now. That drives him crazy, this 'I don't care' thing, it really does. He has this passionate personality that makes him cares practically about everything. 

"It's in my blood," he said once, "it runs in the family." 

"I don't think I have that in my blood," I replied. "I think I am born to be cold-blooded." 

The thing is, I lied. I may not be born to be passionate like he does, but I am not born to be cold-blooded, this I am sure. I cared a lot, to tell you the truth, when I was young. I used to have plenty of dolls in this tiny room of mine, that I could easily be buried by them. And I named them, every single one of my dolls, and I organized tea parties for them every other day. I used to be that kind of girl. I cried when I fell off my broom. I kissed my parents goodnight. I hugged this boy who lived next door when he gave me a flower.

Yes, there were a lot of emotions in my world at that time. Colorful ones. But I was still more on the quiet side, a girl so well-behaved that parents would proudly introduce to friends. I really was a good girl, and though I felt a lot of emotions I didn't always show them. I didn't show them, no, but I sealed some of my anger and fear and jealousy and frustration up. At least I was feeling, then. 

Sometimes I ask myself: since when did I stop feeling all together? I didn't ask myself for an answer, because I knew it already. It was a simple question that worth only a simple answer, but it was a long story. And I don't feel like getting into it.

But I might as well. For this is my story, and without that episode I won't be the person that I am now. I don't know what else to tell you anyways.

As I have told you, I was a good girl when I was young. I felt a lot in those days, but I was careful not to be moody. I hid some of my feelings from my Mom and Dad. However, on that fateful day, something horrible in me broke lose, and it was then I realized the danger of feeling.

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"Mommy!"

I busted into the house. No one could demand subtlety from a nine-year-old. A very angry nine-year-old at that. As I said, I felt a lot at that time.

"Mommy!"

"Quiet, dear," Mom was swishing her wand in an odd way. She pointed it at her toes, then slowly drew it up her ankle, then up her knees.

"But Mommy, Joey said-" Joey was the boy who lived next door. He was my only playmate when I was small.

"Luna, this is important, I need to concentrate," Mom did not stop what she was doing, and continued waving her wand which was now pointing to her abdomen. Mom did not exactly work, but she regarded herself as a scientist. She liked to invent spells. Most of them did not work, but a few did, and Dad would put those into _The_ _Quibbler_, which was a relatively new magazine at that time. Sometimes Dad put spells that did not work in it, too, just to please Mom.

Usually, when Mom said something's important, I would wait. Like I said, I could control my emotions fairly well. But not on that day. I was feeling angrier than I had ever felt. Joey, who had given me a flower when I was six, jeered at me that day. He said that my parents were weirdoes, and as I was a child of them, that made me a weirdo, too.

"Mommy, why must Dad publish _The Quibbler? _Why must you always invent spells?" _Why must you act like weirdoes?_

"Honey-" Mom started. Her hand quivered a bit but she steadied it quickly and continued pointing it at various body parts.

"Why?"

"Your Daddy and I are trying to reveal the hidden truths of the wizarding world," Mom sighed.

"But Joey said that I am a weirdo," I pouted and ignored my mother's blanching face. Anger once again was building inside me. _Ha! And now I lost my friend because of some may-not-even-exist, "hidden" truths. _I seriously wanted to kick something.

"Luna, you-" Mom stopped at mid-sentence and her hand began to shake.

"Why can't you and Daddy act normal for a day? Just one day? For my sake?" I shouted angrily.

"_Luna Rachel Lovegood!_" Mom snarled back with all her force. I hated the name.

"I hate you!" I screamed and ran out of the door, banging it behind me and never noticed my Mom's wand dropped onto the floor.

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Since then, I stopped feeling.

Well, not exactly maybe. I can't tell the exact moment when I stopped feeling. Was it when I discovered Mom lying on the carpet, motionless, with Dad and two wizards that I did not know surrounding her? Was it when I last saw her in the coffin, suddenly understanding that she would no longer talk to me, smile to me, kiss me goodnight? Was it when I remembered that last thing I said to her was that I hate her? Or was it when I realized that it was all my fault?

I don't know. It probably is a slow, gradual process.

Dad was very nice about it. He did not yell at me. I wished he would at that time, because every time I saw him staring at me with that pain so evident on his face, or when sometimes I caught him crying on the couch at midnight, I wished that _I _was dead. If I were dead, I would not have to endure this torture, more terrible than any yells or curses Dad could put on me.

Then slowly, I stopped crying at night. I threw away my dolls. I did not laugh when I read a really good joke on _The Quibbler. _I did not wink at Dad when he came home, or rushed to hug him. I stealthily slid into rooms, my footsteps unheard, because any noise would destroy the fragile presence of Mom Dad tried so hard to maintain at home. I stopped talking to Joey, and when he said I had became an even bigger weirdo, I didn't get angry. I didn't smile either, but I was not angry. I talked less and less, despite the numerous efforts Dad tried to engage me in conversation. I didn't even talk to myself. I hid my emotions deep, deep under, where they could not do any harm.

And on my eleventh birthday, I discovered that I had no emotions at all.

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I did not jump up and down receiving Hogwarts' letter. I did not care. I bought my stuff in Diagon Alley, read through all the textbooks and prepared for my lessons. 

On the day for me to go to Hogwarts, I watched, amazed, at the many people on the platform and the many students who seemed to be tightly attached to their parents. Amazed, but disinterested. Finally, it was time for me to get on the train.

"So," Dad helped me to pull my luggage into an empty carriage. "So I guess I will not be seeing my little girl for a year!"

"Yeah," I said.

"And, eh," Dad seemed to be at a lost of what to make of my response. But that's usual. He had not known what to make of me since Mom's... departure. I did not care. "I'll miss you."

"I'm sure you will," I said, climbing on board. Dad looked disappointed, like he was expecting me to say something else. Like 'I will miss you, too', maybe. But I did not want to lie. Not that I cared. I was just not in the mood of lying.

"Bye, darling," Dad yelled to me as the train started to move. "Write often!"

I waved to him briefly and sat back. I was alone in the carriage. I changed into my school robes early and tucked my wand behind my ear. Then I took out the latest _The Quibbler. _I ignored the witch who came by selling high-calorie snacks and enamel-eating chocolates. 

The carriage next to mine was very, very noisy. A couple of first years passed by saying that The-Boy-Who-Lived was in there. Harry Potter.

I did not care and finished my reading. I finished a test with zero points which meant I was the most peculiar person there had to be. I read a touching article Dad wrote about girls growing so fast that sometimes parents hardly noticed how time flied. 

Still I felt nothing.

I crossed the Great Lake in a rowing boat. Someone said there was a giant squid in there. I did not care. Students all around me oohed and ahhed as Hogwarts the castle came into sight. I did not care about that, either. Don't get me wrong, though. The castle was as magnificent and grand and exquisite as others had described it. I just... held no interest in castles at that time.

We arrived the Great Hall. It looked just like how I had imagined it. Older students looked as we first years inched toward the Sorting Hat, sniggering and pointing. The two boys in front of me were stabbing each other with their wands, and the girl behind me kept going, "I think I'm gonna faint. I think I'm gonna faint."

I could not identify with their behavior. What was there to be nervous about? It was just a ceremony in which you put on a hat and it told you where you belonged. 

"Hmmm," was the first thing the Sorting Hat said when I put it on.

I remained silent.

"That's a pretty empty head you've got there, no?"

"I've tried my best," I replied under my breath. I finished all my textbooks during the summer. There was nothing that I could do anymore.

"Not empty in the sense that you have no knowledge in there. There are plenty of wits I see. Empty in the sense that... that you have no emotions," the hat sounded puzzled. Could a hat be puzzled? I did not know the answer. I did not want the answer.

"No one is so... emotionless. Even the coldest Slytherin feels angry sometimes," the Hat reasoned. I felt the gazes of everyone in the Great Hall focused on me- I must have set the record time for the Hat to locate my house. I did not care.

"You can't _not _care about everything. I... Where should I place you?" Good. Even the Hat seemed to be at a lost of what to make of me. Not that I cared, of course. It was just amusing how no one could understand me, while I was really so simple. Like the Hat said, there was nothing in me, honestly.

"It's not amusing," the Hat retorted.

I actually chuckled at that. "Does that mean I get to pick my own house? Well, in that case, I choose-"

"RAVENCLAW!" The Hat roared as I whispered the name simultaneously. 

I got off the stool with a small smile. Both my parents belonged to Ravenclaw. I noticed that I did not get much applause from my fellow housemates. Not that I cared.

And with that I began my life of a Hogwarts first year as a Ravenclaw.

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There, I wrote it out. I really don't like writing that much. If it wasn't for him forcing me to-

Oh great. I am feeling some anger right now. Frustration, too. It's not a bad feeling, just... strange. 

And he lied. I did not feel better after writing all this down. I just wasted my precious time-

Wait! More anger!

Well. Maybe he had not lied. Maybe this really is a part of my therapy. Maybe this really will work.

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A/N: Please REVIEW. Anonymous reviewers please leave your e-mail if you want to be on the mailing list. 


	2. Second Entry

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the HP universe. Too bad.

A/N: Thank you for the nine nice reviews that I got for the first chapter! To express my gratitude, I give my reviewers each a cyber cookie and a ultra super duper quick update. YaY!

**Snidget-And-Co: **Here is some Ron/Luna interaction for you. Hope you like it!

**Gryffindorgirl13: **Thanks! I got the idea of this story during my psychology class. Amazing, eh?

** : **Curious... who are you? I am glad you like this story. Keep reading! I promise I'll update "The way they were meant to be" soon.

**Leuca: **Thanks for coming! Your story is awesome!

**The Ayatollah of the Saxaphone: **Queen Ditz recommended my fic? Wow. Say thank you to her for me, will you? Believe it or not, I have never read a Luna fic before, so I really don't know how others out there are illustrating her. I hope I am doing a nice fair impression of her.

**metallicverb: **Thanks! I will continue!

**Fairy of the Black Oleander: **Hey that's one big coincidence! I dunno, but the name Rachel just popped up when I thought about Luna.

**Miranda: **Thanks! Keep reading!

**I lov Redheads w/ Fangs: **Yeah, people don't seem to like Luna very much, which is quite unfair to the girl. I am glad you like how I put her!

I hope you enjoy this chapter, for I certainly do writing it!

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Second entry:

Think, Luna, think.

He gave you a problem, and you are going to solve it. 

Now take a deep breath, calm down, and think. Logically. Ignore that voice in the back of your mind. It does not matter.

Okay. First, what is the definition of a perfect date? A perfect date is when both parties involved in the event enjoy doing whatever they planned to do, tremendously, in each other's company. Preferably in a cozy place where both parties find romantic. They should feel be a tranquility mixing with a tinge of excitement which only their companion can bring.

Secondly, what kind of events will Ronald Weasley _and_ Hermione Granger find interesting, enjoyable, and at the same time, romantic? Hermione likes something calm, or better, a learning experience. Basking in the sun and picnic? Maybe. Visiting the museum? Sounds good. Cuddling in front of a fire and read a book? Why not. And what does Ron like? Ron will- well, Ron probably enjoys _everything _in the company of Hermione. But he will enjoy watching a game in the Stadium, or a bloom ride.

Next. What places will they find romantic? Hermione loves the library, of course, and the old attic bookstore above the apothecary. But any restaurant will do the trick, provided that it has candles and soft music. Ron is more complicated. The places he find intriguing will not be very... appropriate for a date, like the Stadium or the Honeydukes. But then, he can be anywhere with Hermione. He won't mind.

Then how can they feel good in each other's presence? Well. They can manage this part fine, I know. And who am I to talk about feelings anyway.

This brings us to the conclusion that- wait. It hasn't brought us anywhere! This just brings us to the conclusion that there is nothing common between them!

Luna, didn't I tell you not to listen to that voice? True, there may not be plenty of things common between them, but there is love. Yes, there has to be. You have seen how he looked at her. You have seen how she looked at him.

You haven't yet had the luck to witness how they look at each other. But that should be enough.

So, back to the problem. Think, Luna. There has to be some way. For example, with his position as an Auror-in-training aka Best-friend-of-Harry-Potter, there should be no trouble for him to arrange booking the Stadium, then they can have a picnic in the Stadium, on the grassy patch, under the stars! How romantic.

Or they can just kiss each other whole night under the Whomping Willow. I don't care.

Geez, get a grip, Luna Lovegood! Take a deep breath!

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

That's right. That's better. This is a harmless little quill, you don't have to snap it in half. This is a harmless little page, you don't have to tear it in half-

Ignore it! Ignore it!

Now, now. Luna, as long as I am writing in third person, I may as well remind you that you have no right to feel bitter. No use to feel bitter. Bitterness is unproductive, as is any other feeling, by the way. The anger that you just felt, despite what he said, is unproductive. Harmful. See what you almost do to your stationery.

Remember what you did to your mother.

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I should continue my story. Writing is supposed to be good for me, you know. He just dropped by this afternoon and asked me how much had I written in the past week.

"One entry," I said, and seeing his expression, added, "four pages."

"One single entry!" He exclaimed. "Luna, that's a good start, but not enough."

So here I am, writing again. Today's Saturday and I have finished all my homework last night, so I have an entire night free. A free night, and I am stuck here in the dormitory writing on a lousy diary. Not that I have somewhere else to be, something else to do. I feel this urge to sigh. I haven't sighed in seven years and now I want to sigh! Ha. I can almost laugh.

Maybe I should start off from where I stopped. So I was sorted into Ravenclaw.

First year passed uneventfully.

Second year passed uneventfully.

Third year passed-

No, no no no. I can't do it. I cannot concentrate. He will be furious if he finds out this is what I write. Or worse, he will get _that _look on his face. Disappointment mixing with pity and something else that I cannot fathom. I have no use with pity. I don't need pity. People living under bridges in cardboxes, they need pity. People in Africa without food or clothes, let alone a wand, they need pity. I have a nice bed and an owl. And straight 'O's.

Not exactly happy, but not unhappy either.

Besides, who is he to look disappointed, to look like I have failed him and make me feel bad, anyway? It is hewho insisted to help me with my 'emotional problems'. Dumbledore, too, but _ he_ played a part. I did not want his help. I did not need any. I _do _not need any. And he is the source of distraction. I cannot concentrate now because of _him_. So really, he has no right to be disappointed, I haven't done anything wrong. I was just sitting there waiting for him to visit me-

Oh well. Since I can't think of anything else anyway, I might as well get into it. Get into that memory an hour ago, still so fresh, a wound still bleeding. But I should write it down, slice it open again, and alas, it will hurt. Yes, pain. Maybe that's why he did it. It was all part of the therapy, and who knows? It must be good for me.

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The sunrays seeped through the blinds and made funny shapes across the royal blue carpet. I sat cross-legged on my bed, alone in the room. I had not made the prefect team nor the Head-girl, guess I was too queer. Or maybe Dumbledore thought girls without feelings were not suitable for disciplinary posts. I don't know which, and I don't care. No matter what, I did not have the privilege of having a room to myself. I shared the highest dormitory in the Ravenclaw Tower with two seventh years like me, a sixth year and a fifth year. All of them were very nice roommates: quiet, not disturbing, like a proper Ravenclaw should be.

Though all of them were more on the quiet side, none of them would stay in the dormitory on Saturday, so I was alone in the room. Alone as usual, waiting for him. He has his day-offs on Saturdays. He fought hard for it, as most Aurors tried to get their day-offs on Saturdays, too. But he had a strong reason: he had to 'help' me. Part of this was true because I am usually freer on Saturdays. Another reason, a much larger one at that, was because Hermione has her day-offs on Saturdays, too. She is an apprentice of Snape now. Why would she want to pursue a career in Potions I will never understand.

He was late.

I was soothing the nonexistent crease on my bedspread for the hundredth time when he burst in. I snapped up at the bang of the door, and for a moment I could not see his face, just his tall stature and gleaming red hair. He walked in, closing the door behind him, and sat down in the usual armchair.

"Sorry, Luna," he smiled. His voice was much deeper now than when I first met him, four years ago. He was taller, and no longer what you would call lanky. Still rather thin comparing to others, but he had been filling out since last year. Not for the first time I noticed how he had outgrown his hot-tempered self into this- this man now. I thrusted the thought away. No matter how he had grown, he was still Ronald Weasley, his freckles never change.

"Luna, what had I told you about ignoring people?" He crossed his extraordinarily long legs, and leant back.

"I am not ignoring you, I was just- lost in thought."

He scribbled something onto a notebook that I hadn't seen him conjure. Then he put down his quill and the notebook.

"So, let's begin, shall we?"

"I thought you have already begun," I said, pointing at the notebook on my bedside table.

I had expected him to be offended, but I was wrong, as I always was with him especially since his training started. I no longer read him like a book. Instead, he just frowned for a second, then smiled patiently.

"Luna, you are not giving a report. That is not a statement. Why did you say that?"

"To tell you what I thought?"

"No, more than that."

I tried to remember why I had said that to no avail. It was just the natural thing to say, so I replied, "I guess it just sprang to my mind."

"Emotions," he said, giving me the 'tut tut' look. "When people say something, they are usually trying to convey a message to somebody else, and this message is usually what they _feel._"

But of course I knew that already. It was what he had been trying to teach me for almost three years. Emotions.

"Now try to put something into that sentence and say it again," he instructed.

"I thought you have already begun," I tried.

"It is still rather flat. Try putting in more sarcasm."

"I thought you have already begun," I put in as much sarcasm as I processed, but it sounded quite silly to my own ears. I am not a sarcastic person. You can't be very sarcastic when there is little in the world that you care about.

He seemed pleased, though. "That's better. Now add in a sneer, and it will be perfect."

"I thought you have already begun," I sneered. I curled my lips in a way that I hoped to resemble Snape. Our 'therapy session' must seem very stupid to any onlookers. We often spend hours practicing a specific line, or a facial expression. I am 'improving', according to him, but it is a slow progress.

He laughed, a deep laugh that echoed breathtakingly in the room. I relaxed my face furtively. He did not notice and picked up his notebook again.

"That's great, Luna. Now let's see, have you done your task?"

"Yeah," this time, I remembered to add in some confidence and enthusiasm.

"How much have you written?"

"One entry," I replied, and added, "four pages."

"One single entry!" He exclaimed, "Luna, that's a good start, but not enough."

I nodded.

"And let's- hey, you are having that blank face again."

I immediately put on a smile. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. He sighed and jotted something in his book.

"This week I want you to put on an expression- any expression- twenty four seven. I will have Dumbledore and the professors to look out for me, and if any of them tells me that you-"

"What?"

He laughed. "That's a good incredulous look. And yeah, you have to keep writing."

I slumped my shoulders and wiped the smile away. He put down his quill and leant forward.

"You can manage this. Human faces are made to show."

"Not mine," I whispered.

"Look at me. Look at me, Luna," I looked up into his pupils. "You can do this. I mean, you did pretty well around your friends. No one suspected you, right? Now do the same even when you are alone."

"That'd be exhausting," I complained, adding in just enough protest.

"Don't you feel tired too, keeping a straight face all the time?" He asked. "You always look so blank when I'm around." The last part sounded almost like a whine. I pulled a smile.

"That's how I look to everyone," I replied.

I lied, again. I can smile, even laugh with my housemates. I can be somewhat weird, but never blank. No one knows about my 'problem'. But I block my feelings, supposing that I do have some left, against all those that are close to me. The more I care about people, the less I feel about them. It is a reflex. And that's why he was the first to diagnose me as 'ill', and that was also how I came to realize that he was important to me.

He opened his mouth, but closed it quickly as though he had thought better of it. I strongly suspected that he had looked right through my lie. Silence enveloped us and for a moment he seemed to be lost in thought.

"Tell me something about this week, Luna," finally he cleared his throat and broke the silence.

"Two more Death Eaters were caught on Wednesday, and they've got a newborn Hippogriff in the Zoo."

He looked up from his notebook. "I do read the news once in a while, Luna."

"Well," naturally I knew what he wanted, I just did not feel like giving him it. "Ginny and Neville were caught kissing behind Greenhouse Six on Friday."

"Ginny _what?_ She and- wait, that's not what I meant, either," he started rubbing his temples. "Tell me something about _yourself._"

"Nothing happened to me this week."

He just sat back and stared hard at me.

I averted his glare and found a sudden interest in my fingertips. I tried to remember what happened in the past week, but it was difficult. It was an arduousjob to remember something that you don't care about.I started to curl a tuft of my dirty-blond hair with my index finger. He sighed.

"You got your Potions test back, Luna, and you received an 'O', which has to be Snape's first 'O' in ten years. You also got an 'O' in your Astronomy essay. Your house won in the Quidditch match against Griffindor. You slapped a Slytherin boy who insulted Ginny, and did not turn up in McGonagall's detention."

"I forgot," I admitted before narrowing my eyes at him. "How did you know...?"

"I have my sources," he said dismissively. I opened my mouth but he beat me to it. "Luna, you must try be more alert to your surroundings. Try to remember what happened to you, sometimes there may be something important."

"If it's important, I won't forget it. Besides, I find myself rather alert," I answered defiantly. He put a remark down in his notes, muttering, 

"That's what you think."

I chose not to comment on that, it was not meant to be heard anyway. He continued scribbling for a minute, then glanced at his watch.

"Oh," he said.

Oh, the one hour was up. Oh, he was going to be late. Oh, he was meeting someone. And oh, duh, three guesses who that was.

He stood up, looking almost sad. Sad that I hadn't made much progress? Sad that he was stuck with me for yet another week? I did not know. But he smiled finally and said, "I'm not pushing you, but try your best, hmm?"

I nodded and watched his towering form walked to the door. He opened it to the much better illuminated stairway which leads down to the Common Room, and looked back. 

"Luna," he paused, as if struggling to say something. "What is your idea of a perfect date?"

I was caught off guard. Surely there was nothing crueler than this? Asking me to think of a date for him?

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When I came out of the initial bemusement, he was gone, and twilight had arrived without me realizing. I was sitting alone in the dark. I let down the blue curtains, slipped under my navy blue quilt, and laid my head on the deep violet pillow case. But all looked black to me. I was embraced by shadows.

A tear came. I did not recognize it at first. It was as unfamiliar to me as Pluto. Maybe I knew Pluto even better, at least I got an 'O' in Astronomy, but I had not encountered a tear for almost nine years. It was alien to me. A tear came! How hilarious that sounded. He would be ecstatic if he knew I had a tear. I wanted to laugh, but another tear fell into my silky pillow. It actually felt good. Another tear fell onto my lips, and I tasted it. It was salty.

I wanted more tears. I wanted to cry. Long ago he had told me that crying was good, he had tried to make me cry, though soon he discovered that would be too much to ask of me. And now I was crying, I wanted more. But as suddenly as it had came, it stopped. I squinted my eyes, widened them, and batted them like mad. Nothing happened. I tried and tried until I gagged and coughed and felt nauseous.

Three lousy tears! That's all I could manage. That's all he could get from me. 

I wonder how many tears will I let fall when he announces his engagement.

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There, I wrote it down, but I am not feeling any better. My face is hurting from smiling too long. I do not feel like smiling now, of course, but what else should I do? He wanted me to keep an expression all day. It feels pretty ludicrous smiling to yourself when no one is around. Not to mention weird. And exhausting.

Maybe I should just go to sleep, let my mind (and face) rest a bit. No more nagging voices. No more memories. No more smiles.

No more tears.

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A/N: How do you like it? Tell me! Anonymous reviewers, please leave your e-mail if you want to be on the mailing list. I'd love to hear from any of you, be it in the form of an e-mail or a review. You can add me into your Msn as well. Review my other stories if you can. Thanks! REVIEW!!


	3. Third Entry

Disclaimer: Nothing except the plot's mine.

A/N: Oops, this chapter took a little too long, I know. But school started last week and again updates will be sparse. I hope the length and the writing can make up for this...

**Snidget-And-Co: **Thanks!

**tOmLoVeR17: **Thanks, and I like Luna too!

**metallicverb: **Neville is reserved for Ginny, lol.

**I lov Redheads w/ Fangs: **Thanks, I hope you like this chapter as well!

**secretkeeper1: **Thanks. Ron and Luna do make a good ship, hope you like this chapter!

**Fairy of the Black Oleander: **Sorry for the wait! I tried, but school is getting impossible...

**Leuca: **Thanks again for your recommendation! Keep on liking the story, ok? :)

**phoenixdreams: **Indeed Ron/Luna is a new ship to me, I hope I write them good enough for people to like it.

**tom4eva: **Sorry for the late update. I will write more frequently!

**hermione1239: **In the weird little head of mine Hermione and Snape are born to be together, and so, Ron has to stay with Luna... lol. I had not watched the last American Idol. Was it any good?

20 reviews for 2 chapters, not bad, not bad at all... thank you everyone. I love you all! In this chapter Luna wrote more about her past. Enjoy!

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Third Entry:

Rats. No one's in the dorm and homework's all done. There is nothing left for me to do except writing in this dumb diary.

The room is unusually frowsty for an autumn afternoon. I have pushed open a window, and though the sunrays are happily shining in on the dancing dust, no breeze comes.

Whose fault is it that I am stuck in this stuffy room on such a pleasant day? Snape. That greasy bat of a man. Even now when I am writing down the insult I'm writing it without anger- am so tired of emotions. They just seem to drain me. Just now in Potions he took a point off me because I was 'keeping a straight face'. Excuse me? Since when is keeping a straight face illegal?

Duh. Since Saturday.

"But I smiled whole morning! I have the full right to take a five-minute break."

"I am sorry, Miss Lovegood," I can swear that he was holding back laughter when he said that. What kind of sicko takes amusement from a poor girl's misery? I flushed in anger, but that didn't take the glint away from Snape's eyes. Evil git.

That's why I have come up to the dorm. I really can't smile any longer. My lips feel like they are going to fall out if I smile once more.

Good thing that it is Snape, not McGonagall or Flitwick who caught me, though. Surely he won't tell on me.

Or will he?

Snape has changed. He is almost... _civil _to the Griffindors. Most students are oblivious to this, and I can't quite place it myself, but the change is there. In fact, it should be pretty predictable. He-who-must-not-be-named's downfall must have been an enormous impact on his life. It is of course known to every living witch and wizard now that he had been a competent spy whose contributions helped to bring about his former master's fall. He not only stole information, but also caught the Dark Lord together with Harry, Ron and Hermione. I can remember that day so clearly...

----------

"Listen," a fourth year whispered.

I listened. We all did. As impossible as it may seem, the dungeon fell more silent than before. It seemed like everyone was holding their breath. Time stopped.

It should be past midnight. No one was sure. When the Death Eaters poured into the grounds and attacked Hogwarts, most students were already in bed and when we had to flee underground it was more than slightly chaotic- no one remembered to bring a watch. I had the luck to be in the Common Room when Dumbledore's voice boomed in the castle. At least I was in my warm robes, not some silky pajamas.

Once in the dungeons, I sat down at a corner and cuddled the shadows. I was not a prefect so I needed not count my housemates, which must be a terrifying job, to count how many were missing. Unlike most students, I did not feel particularly frightened, just mildly annoyed that I was deprived of my comfy bed. I saw some Hufflepuffs wailing hysterically and wouldn't calm down in spite of their prefects' effort. They quieted only when a Slytherin waved his wand threateningly in their faces.

I sniggered furtively at this, but I was not feeling much mirth. I was not feeling much panic either. _Wouldn't Ron be livid if he found out that I ain't having any emotions even when the school is under attack? _I was thinking when a pale Ginny ran to me.

"Finally!" She cried, panting, "I have been looking for you!"

I looked up at her in mild interest. "Looking for me?"

"Harry's missing," she said. "And Hermione and Ron."

As her words fell a deafening sound exploded above us. I stood up and for the first time of the night, an unspeakable dread fell upon me.

I spent the night with Ginny, my only friend. Well, I had another friend, but he was not here. He may be hiding, but more likely he was fighting. He may be dead. I stroked my sobbing friend's hair absently, listening to the seemingly endless explosions above. Slowly people around me slumped one by one against the dank walls and fell asleep. I felt Ginny dozing off as well, though she was trying hard to stay awake. She would jerk up once in awhile and, seeing that apart from the candles burning lower nothing had changed, doze off again.

I could not sleep. I listened to the fighting that was no doubt taking place beyond the stone ceiling, and after what seemed an eternity, the noises little by little subsided. Students began to stir and wake up, wearing confused expressions as if they didn't know where they were before fear returned. The dungeon was ominously hushed. Finally, the last curse was thrown and a ringing silence set itself on the castle.

I listened, and listened. Nothing. I scrambled up.

"Luna?"

I started to push through the mass of students. Professor Binns, a few ghosts, and Professor Sprout were with us in the dungeon. I rushed past them too.

"Luna, where are you going?"

"Miss Lovegood, it is not safe yet!"

"Miss Lovegood, stay where you are!"

I ignored them. Pushing open the thick door, I relished in the cold fresh air. I ran out of the dungeon and up the endless steps. People were shouting behind me, but none of them followed. I ran and ran until my legs couldn't bring me any faster. I did not stop at the top of the concealed stairs, I did not pause at the ruined Ravenclaw Tower. For some reason I seemed to know where I should go when I truly didn't. The invisible hand kept pushing me until I reached the Great Hall.

I slowed my pace and tried in vain to control my rugged breathing. My fingers halted on the brass knob.

What if they lost? What if it was the Dark Lord who won? I may face a whole herd of triumphant Death Eaters. I gripped the knob a little tighter and turned it.

The Great Hall did not look half as inviting as usual. There were scorch marks and a pungent smell of burnt carpet. In the dim light I could see shattered glass everywhere. The long tables had become smoking wrecks. But nothing compared to what I saw in the middle of the room.

There were two hooded figures on the floor, and a tall, struggling one, who by his robes I identified as the Dark Lord himself. All three of them were bound by electric-blue ropes, undoubtedly conjured by the Headmaster who was standing beside them. Harry was standing right next to Dumbledore, his face barely recognizable from all the sweat and blood mixing together. He looked extremely exhausted. Snape was at the very back of the group, and I had to squint my eyes in order to see him. He did not look much different except for the wand still in hand. He seemed to be rather uncomfortable- I learned later that was because Harry and Hermione just hugged him- but very pleased with himself at the same time.

None of this is what I meant by 'what I saw in the middle of the room'. What I meant by that, what I hadn't prepared to see when I pushed open the door was Hermione and Ron embracing each other.

It should not have been a surprise. It was just that I had these stupid images of him being totally battered- matted in blood and cuts and all- that I hadn't thought of seeing him in one piece hugging a girl when I entered the room. I stared at them. He looked unhurt to me. Granted, his hair was in a mess and he was much paler than usual, but I didn't see the long bleeding wounds that I was dreading.

"Miss Lovegood?" Snape was the first to notice me.

He let go of Hermione and turned. Our eyes locked.

"Luna?" He drawled slowly, like he couldn't believe his eyes.

I turned and ran for the second time of the day.

"Luna!" I heard his footsteps behind me. I ran faster. "Luna Lovegood! Where are you-"

He coughed. I didn't halt to see how he was but just kept running. He fell behind. I kept running and running, without an idea where I should run to. I ran out of the castle and fell face first into the dew-dampened grass.

An incessant rain started to fall.

----------

After the Dark Lord's downfall, there were celebrations throughout the wizarding world. Balls after balls, carnivals after carnivals. Confetti was constantly rained everywhere. The Headmaster, Snape and the 'wonder three' got themselves a couple of medals for bringing down the most evil wizard in history (not without a bloody fight, too, described the _Daily Prophet_ in great details).

One would think that this whole The-Dark-Lord-was-caught-and-I-was-there thing was pretty impressive, but no. Colin Creevey kept asking me what you-know-who looked like, but frankly I couldn't remember. Everything was sort of in a haze after that day. I couldn't recall the grand celebrations I was told that I had joined, nor could I tell how the rest of the year had gone. After a year of therapy I retreated back into my emotionless lair.

Ron was frustrated, extremely so. I could tell that he did not quite understand why had I adopted the I-don't-care attitude back. I had learnt from Ginny and other girls that boys were inherently insensitive and oblivious like a goose, but it was not until then I fully get what they meant. He tried reasoning with me, intercepting me when I was on my way to lessons, begging and even apologizing for a crime he did not know committing.

Of course he did not do it because he missed me or something- a ludicrous idea- but only because he was unwilling to give up all the progress he had made. He never admit it but I know he treat me as a kind of project, to prove that he can do it, to save a 'lost soul', maybe. I did not beg for his help. _He_ did. And while I may not care much, it bothered me when someone kept intruding on my studies, so I gave in and he started helping me in my fifth year.

"This all started because of _you_ being in a wrong place at a wrong time," I often complained under my breath when the sessions became intolerable.

"You shouldn't have tripped, too, then," he always caught my murmurs and knew exactly what I was referring to.

----------

It was a wet spring morning. The grounds had turned into a muddy swamp from last night's storm, and the air was dewy. Nevertheless, the sky was beginning to bleach to a pearly pink as I entered the Owlery. The sight was magnificent from the tall tower, and I loosened my scarf a little to let my neck taste the fresh cool wind.

It was a little morning ritual of mine- I woke up earlier than most students and walked around the castle alone. I found that this little walk worked up a healthy appetite, and the tranquility of the morning soothed my mind, preparing me for another day. I habitually strode up the spiral stairs to the Owlery where Athena resided. Athena was my owl, a middle-sized russet beauty. Mum bought her for me when I was eight, so she was with me for more than seven years.

I searched the usual wood where Athena usually perched. She was not there. _Out for an early hunt?_ I thought, holding out my hand with treats on my palm. The owls hooted all around me. Several dropped from their branches and pecked the treats.

Then I saw her. Athena. She was on a lower branch, seemingly asleep. Even before touching her, I knew she had gone. It was an indescribable feeling, but maybe I wasn't feeling at all. I threw away the treats and walked over to her. My faithful messenger, my loving pal. 

My only thing left from Mum.

I stroked her feathers and felt a door inside me closed. Pig was hooting next to me, not in his usual happy mood. I conjured a box and placed her gently in.

It may sound a little cruel, but the only thing on my mind when I descended from the chamber was that I had to buy another owl.

I clutched the coffin tighter as I lowered myself from the stairs without grabbing a handrail. Life was so unbelievably fragile that I could not quite take it in. _I will take her to Madam Pomfrey... no. To Hagrid. Yes, that's what I will do. Bring her to Hagrid..._

Lost in my inner turbulence, I failed to notice the raging footsteps coming my way.

"-Fred and George. Trust them to make my life hell-"

We collided as I turned with my head in the clouds and his lowered. We tumbled down the stairs and landed as an entangled heap at its foot. The box skidded to a stop several feet away from me. Luckily it survived the fall and did not flew open.

The one below me moaned and said a word that no self-respecting lady would repeat. It was only then I discovered that I was on top of someone- to tell the embarrassing truth, I did not know why had I fallen until then.

"Owww," he moaned again. I turned my eyes from the box to his face and to my astonishment saw that he was Ronald Weasley, the brother of my friend, Ginny. He was on his back and I was on him. Our faces were an inch apart and I was staring into his eyes.

"Are you going to move, or what?" He said harshly, breaking the spell, and attempted to push me away. I began to get away myself but for some reason my body wouldn't move the way my brain ordered it to. I tried again but in the process got into a more awkward position with both my hands clinging to his robe. He looked at me, at my hands that were tightly hanging on him, at me again, then sighed. I tried once more to back away to no avail.

He sighed and with a firm hand around my waist, sat up without difficulty. He then stood up, dusting his robes.

"Can't someone enjoy a morning without being disturbed here?" He demanded no one in particular.

I remained silent. Though a close friend of Ginny's, I was never familiar with her brothers, including Ron though we fought together in my fourth year. To me, they were out of reach, and thus out of mind. They were an ancient wizard family with a long line of history, and I knew what these families thought about _The Quibbler _and my family. The Weasleys had always been popular, and I did not know how to handle popular people. Not that I had any intention to. Ginny was an exception, naturally.

"If you are going to sit there all day-" he had started towards the stairs when he looked back at me, still sitting on the dank stone floor.

And screamed.

It was a rather disturbing sound. As I have told you, his voice didn't deepen until his seventh year. I frowned.

"Would you please stop that?"

"Merlin's holy beard!" He was shouting and it seemed like he wouldn't cease till he succeed in waking every single one in the castle up.

"What's the matter?" Screams must be contagious because I found myself pulling my voice an octave higher.

Two seconds later he calmed a bit and stopped screaming, but did not stop goggling at me. I looked back puzzled. He kept his eyes on me, and slowly, gingerly like he was approaching a beast, walked to my side. I could not comprehend his actions, and concluded that Ginny's brother was even weirder than I thought.

"Easy, easy," when he spoke again he used a soft voice that contrasted drastically the one he used a minute ago.

"What?" I wanted to know.

"Everything is gonna be fine," he cooed, more comforting himself than me. I blinked.

"But-"

He ignored me and reached out. As I was sitting on one of my leg, I had to turn myself arduously to see the ankle he was touching.

Which was twisted in an aberrant angle. I knew now why he had screamed, for I would have screamed myself if I wasn't the emotionless freak I was.

"Oh."

"Oh? Your ankle is broken and you said, oh?" He was incredulous.

The truth was, it did not hurt much. There was a distant pain, but not much. Even my ankle had stopped feeling.

"Nothing a wand can't fix," while I found the situation rather hilarious, he certainly did not. He grabbed my hand, preventing it to reach into my robe, and shook his head resolutely.

"I've seen what a spell went wrong can do to your bones," he said grimly. Then touching my broken ankle again, asked, "does it hurt?"

I laughed. How stupid a question was that? He stared at me.

"No, it does not hurt," I replied, sweeping everything off my face, not leaving out the lines around my eyes when I laughed. Ron just stared harder at this. I could almost hear the cogs in his head turning to make sense of my strangeness, and for a moment he seemed to struggle between walking away and making a remark. Finally he decided to do neither and picked me up with one scoop.

"Hey!" Reflexively my arms went around his neck clinging for dear life, for he was already towering at that time and it seemed to me that if he should drop me it would be a long painful fall. My ankles might have lost their feelings, my bottom might not.

"I am taking you to the Hospital Wing," he ignored my protest and announced in a tone that indicated that there was no point in arguing.

"I did not feel like going to the Hospital Wing," I told him. He looked ahead as if he hadn't heard me.

"The box!" I remembered suddenly.

"What?"

"That box over there," I pointed. "Put me down."

With lightening speed and skill that he no doubt gained from playing Quidditch, he snatched the box up. Now he was carrying me _and _the box. "Nice try," he smiled broadly, showing all his teeth, and matched on in great big steps.

"What's the matter with you?" I demanded, and was shocked to feel anger for the first time in years.

----------

Our relationship took a turn on that day. He stayed with me in the Hospital Wing that day- he felt guilty or something. Madam Pomfrey diagnosed a minor fracture in my left foot and decided that I have to stay for two weeks. He came to visit me everyday after lessons (sometimes skipping them) and I suspected that it was during the two weeks he noticed my lack of facial expression. As I said, the closer I get with an individual, the more evasive I become.

It was also during that two weeks I developed- discovered, more like, for it had always been there- a stupid affection for him, more commonly known as a crush.

Unnecessary sentiments, but extremely powerful.

Anyways, he took my 'illness' as his responsibility. He reported it to Dumbledore. And that old man, that fool who believed and encouraged 'caring among students', did nothing but to help Ron with his pestering. Even after he graduated I was under the close scrutiny of the Headmaster and the professors, which brings me back to the question at the very beginning- will Snape grass on me, or not?

Not in a million years would the 'old' Snape want anything to do with a Griffindor Auror, but considering how he has been behaving lately- deducting only twenty points off poor Tammy for melting her sixth cauldron of the year and _smiling _during meals- one can't be overly confident about the greasy bat's actions.

And it is my only hope that some High Power up there is listening to my prayers for a tight mouth of his.

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A/N: Good, or not? I wish to write more explicitly about her feelings, but then I can't see Luna writing that way. This story is proving to be more and more challenging. Anyways, please REVIEW and make me a happy little girl. Anonymous reviewers please leave your emails to be in the mailing list. 


	4. Fourth Entry

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the HP universe. Really.

A/N: I am a rotten writer. I have zero self-discipline. I keep my readers waiting. But believe me, I don't enjoy it. I don't revel in the longing in your eyes.

**Snidget-And-Co: **Some Ron/Luna development in this chapter! Be patient, love is a process, a slow slow sloooooowwww one at that.

**Leuca: **Thanks! The story is getting more and more difficult to write, but that's why I love it. Hope you do too!

**I lov Redheads w/ Fangs: **I agree Luna should have a hobby, get a life or something, but I can't figure out what would a girl like her do in her spare time. Gardening just doesn't sound right, lol. You like Everance? My friend like them, too!

**casey windsor: **Sorry for not updating earlier. Hope you like this chapter!

**metallicverb: **Well, I don't really know if being emotionless will affect the physical body, cause I am always more on the "filled with emotions" side... let's just pretend it does... hehe. I am one irresponsible writer.

**tom4eva: **Sorry for the long wait! I hope you still like this!

**Silver: **I can't say sorry enough! Sorry! Please be patient with me and enjoy the chapter.

**eckles: **Thanks!

**Plum Blossoms: **Oh, don't worry, they will get together. Eventually.

**kari: **Thanks!

**Mayumi: **Thanks for liking my fic! Forgive my laziness and keep liking it!

**EmotionalNapsack: **Thanks! Enjoy!

On second thought, I take back what I said. I do revel a little in the longing in your eyes. Lol.

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Fourth entry:

Snape did tell on me. What could turn a spy into a big mouth? I honestly can't fathom that out. What I know now is that when Ron said he had his sources, Snape was one of them. Our therapy today started with a lecture. I had thought he could not lecture, surely one would kill him. I was wrong. It nearly killed _me._

You are so surrounded by love, everyone of us cares about you, you should be happy, blah blah blah, that kind of stuff. To which I could only nod and say 'yes'.

"So, given any thought to the question?" He asked off-handedly at the end of the session. Too off-handedly, I'd say.

I did not ask what question he was referring to. There was only one question. _The_ question.

I told him my idea of having a picnic at night in the Quidditch Stadium.

"Interesting..." was all he said. I shrugged and forced a smile.

"Of course it's an interesting idea. Been thinking about it for days." _Liar, _my mind sneered at me. I hadn't been thinking about it for days. I hadn't think much about it at all. I couldn't. It hurt too much.

"Daring, too, it coming from you," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "To sneak into the pitch at night..."

I winced inwardly. No matter how great the risks, he would do it, for Hermione. Still, I would hate to see him get into trouble. "Forget it, any date with flowers, candles and champagne is a great date," I said, adding silently, _any date with you is a great date to Hermione._

"Are girls this easily satisfied?" He asked, faking an incredulous look. I couldn't help but smiled a little, and he seemed very pleased with himself for bringing that out of me.

"Get out of my room," half-jokingly I said, _don't keep her waiting. _

He stood up and reached out to muss my hair out of habit. I kept my smile. But as he walked towards the door, I could not play it any longer. So when he turned at the doorway, he saw the bleak, emotionless Luna. Our eyes locked, and I knew it was too late to put back my smile. He had caught me. The hallway was much brighter than the room, and I could only see his gleaming red hair and his eyes, which seemed to penetrate through the darkness to look at me. Wordless, he exited and closed the door behind him.

I slumped into the pillows, every ounce of energy drained out of my body. It was like I had fought yet another battle, and I wasn't sure had I won or not.

----------

I don't care much about autumn. I don't care much about weather, seasons, Hogsmeade weekends, that sort of thing.

However, someone does.

"It's really pretty," Jonathon Keyes said. I had a feeling that he had been doing so for at least half an hour.

"Yeah," I agreed, adding in the crushed apple seeds into my cauldron, though I had no idea what was pretty.

"You don't believe me?" Jonathon's face fell. I noticed that his cauldron was bubbling over, which meant if he did not add in the seeds soon, the potion would be rendered useless. For a Ravenclaw, he really was quite careless.

"Look, Keyes-"

"Jon, please, _Luna._"

"Jon," I gave in. "I don't care if you fail Potions, but I'd rather not have your potion explode in my face. That will be pretty, gross, and definitely undesirable."

He smiled and nodded vigorously. "Of course, Luna," he added in the seeds without looking at the cauldron.

"You need to stir that," I pointed out. He obliged, still staring at me instead of the cauldron.

"So," he started again. "Will you join me-" I rolled my eyes furtively. Why wouldn't he just give up?

"What do you think you are doing, Mr. Keyes?" Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously and walked over. I had never been more grateful for his presence.

"Luna!" Keyes whispered urgently.

And at that moment, his potion exploded.

----------

¡That was yesterday. I have just been to the Hospital Wing. I don't care much, but it seems to be my fault, after all, that Jonathon was distracted during Potions.

"Keyes," I nodded at the pale boy as I entered the infirmary. He sat up quickly.

"Hello Luna, take a seat," he smiled, showing all his teeth.

"You look much better," I said, sitting down. It was true- most of the boils had been tended and a thin film of blue paste had been applied. He smelt strongly of mint. Although still a tad too pale, he was at least not moaning with burns popping all over his face.

"Eh, you want something to drink, Luna?" He asked brightly, bending over to his bedside table and struggled to get me a glass of water.

I took over the jug and suppressed the desire to tell him how irritable it was of him to say my name every sentence. I poured him and myself some water. He sat back and smiled that lopsided smile of his.

"Are you ready to accept the offer, Luna?"

"What offer?" I raised a brow in fake interest.

"Picnic with me this weekend, we can go and see the myriad shades of falling leaves, it will be so beautiful..."

"That's really the only thing on your mind, is it not?" I put down the glass in defeat.

"I have plenty of time to think here," he grinned briefly and ceased doing so, probably because the action caused considerable pain to his face.

I didn't know what possessed me and made me agree to it. It could be the sight of him lying there, looking at me expectantly. It could be the bandages around both his arms.

Or it could be that I didn't want to see Ron this weekend. I didn't know which then, nor do I know now. I don't care.

"That's great, Luna," he grinned again, immediately looking much more energetic than a minute ago. I had a feeling that I had been cheated.

"Yeah," I shrugged. Maybe a break was what I needed. A break from him, from the therapy sessions, from my emotions, from everything.

"I hope I can get out of the Hospital Wing on time," he joked and wrinkled his nose. "It itches."

I knew he was referring to his healing wounds, so I pulled a smile and said 'yeah' again before getting up, and left the infirmary. As soon as I stepped out of the room, I realized that I was an idiot. I did not want to go picnic with Keyes. I did not want to go picnic at all, or anywhere else, for that matter.

Besides, how am I to tell him that I can't meet him this weekend?

----------

He was very nice about the whole thing. Canceling the session, I mean. It has seemed strange to me, for he has always considered them important, but now everything is fine and clear. Why wouldn't he be nice about it? It would be as much a break for him as it was for me. He might even have wanted to cancel them himself, but didn't know how to. He is always so thoughtful, putting my interests before his.

Who am I kidding?

A blanket of... of what? I don't know, it is covering me, suffocating me. What is it? Waves of blackness threaten to swallow me, and I cannot see through them. Something is swelling inside me, something hot... or cold? I really don't know, and I can hardly keep it in any longer. It just kept growing, and growing, since I saw him there with...

It was entirely my own fault. I was an idiot, I had known so before I agreed to Keyes suggestion. It was a wrong decision, destined to end like this.

The morning did not start off well. I woke up much later than I had planned, around eight o'clock, which meant I had only half an hour to prepare. I didn't care what Keyes would think of me if I was unpunctual, but then I would not want him to wait, him being just out of the hospital wing one day and all, so I rushed into the bathroom and tried to take a quick bath, but my usual rose shampoo was used up and much time was wasted when I tried to find something to substitute, then when I got out of bath I discovered that my royal blue robe was washed and I had to wear another robe, which was still blue but not _that _shade of blue, and after that I checked myself in the mirror when it commented that I was too pale and advised me to brush something on and I agreed but suddenly remembered that all my roommates were out and there was no one to help me and I could not tell mascara and lipstick apart.

You get the picture. I was in a mess and praying that Keyes would be late when someone knocked on the door. I groaned and pulled open the door.

"Hi, Luna," Keyes smiled broadly, his face not bearing any mark from his latest accident. I goggled at him through my wet limping hair.

"How did you get up here?"

He ignored my question and walked into the room. I followed him and closed the door behind me, speechless as a dumb. He sat onto one of the four-posters, folding his legs under him.

"You look nice," he commented. I shook myself out of the spell and began fumbling with my hair again. Finally, ten minutes later, I was ready. We left Hogwarts.

The weather was actually quite good. There was few clouds in the sky. The sun was warm, the breezes refreshing. And I could see what Keyes had meant, 'the myriad shades of falling leaves'. It seemed the trees had changed overnight- or maybe I was just too absorbed in my little world to notice until now. Golden leaves and twigs lined the road, and the trees shuffled gently as we walked by.

"Where are we going?" I asked, pulling my lips at an attempt to put something onto my face.

"The park near the post office, the one down the road?" He replied, more a statement than a suggestion. I nodded and we walked in silence for a while.

"I hope you like chicken sandwiches," Keyes started, pointing to a small basket he was carrying. I told him that I do.

"It's the only thing the house-elves would give me," he added and smiled apologetically.

I appreciated his effort to start a conversation, his effort to invite me to a picnic, and all. To many, the mere thought of being with me was unbearable. He was taking the great risk of being seen with me, and now, he was trying to talk to me. He was a nice guy, when one come to think of it.

"Do I look like the kind of people who would die for a chicken sandwich?" He was saying.

"Well, no, but you do not look like the kind who would love peanut butter, either," I tried. He laughed. It was not a bad laugh. A pretty nice one, actually. Not the _deep_ kind Ron had, though...

I did not want to think of him. I let the thought go.

"-honey and butter," Keyes said, which I inferred to be his sandwich preference.

"What else have you got there, apart from the sandwiches?"

And we walked on, gibbering, gossiping, laughing occasionally. We walked past the Three Broomsticks, Zonko's where some Griffindors stared at us, and as I began to relax-

I saw him.

Ron Weasley, in front of the jewel shop, with Hermione. They were looking at something in the window, and their faces gleamed in the golden light reflected off the diamonds and rubies and sapphires.

I stopped dead and stared at the pair. They formed a beautiful picture, the perfect couple together, a man with his wife...

Choosing their engagement ring?

I did not know how long had I stood there. I did not really care. Keyes had stopped beside me, but to his credit, did not say anything.

Some part inside me stopped, like a tiny cog in a watch. A million thoughts passed, so fast that it felt like nothing had ran through my mind. Everything passing, everything paused.

_Why is he here? How can he be here?_

_ Why can't he be here?_

_ He has agreed to calling off the session. He has wanted to be with her, and he can now, finally getting rid of that pest- what's it called? Luna?_

_ You have cancelled the session yourself, pest._

No pain, no tears. Everyone else continued with their lives, striding past me. The world did not stop because I did.

"Luna?" Keyes asked, his voice filled with worry and doubt.

He looked up and our eyes met at that moment.

"Luna?"

I felt Keyes stepped closer and grabbed my left hand. I shook him off softly.

"Luna, I thought-" Ron came over and stood five feet from us. Hermione was still in front of the shop, but I saw her glancing at us.

"Hello," I hated my pretentious voice. It came out crisp and cold.

"Jonathon Keyes," Keyes reached out his hand.

"Ronald Weasley," Ron took it, but his eyes did not left mine.

"Ronald Weasley?" Keyes stared at Ron. Of course, his red hair was unmistakable. "_The _Ronald Weasley?"

"Hogsmeade weekend?" Ron looked at us and smiled a little. I could not understand the smile- it did not quite reach his eyes.

I nodded and looked away.

"We, we are shopping for Christmas," he explained unnecessarily.

"Hermione's there waiting for you."

"Listen, I-"

"We are going on a picnic," interrupted Keyes brightly. He took my hand again, but this time I was too tired to get away. "It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Weasley."

Then he pulled me from Ron. We turned and walked, slowly at first, but suddenly I was running. Like a frightened prey, like a coward, I was bailing from him. I ran until I couldn't think. I ran until I couldn't breathe. Then I stopped. Leaning against a tree, I gasped.

Keyes was right behind me. He gasped, too, and I realized he had run with me.

"R- ready to have some sandwiches?" He asked. Incredibly, in my blind sprint, I brought us to the park. We sat down and wolfed the sandwiches down.

"One more?" Keyes handed me another sandwich. I did not take it, but I laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed, until once more I could not breathe without hurting my windpipe. I laughed until tears rolled down my cheeks. That's how amused I was. The whole thing just struck me as ridiculously funny.

Keyes put down the sandwich and patted me on the shoulder. I did not care what he thought of me. Crazy, probably. Tomorrow he would tell everyone: the rumors were true. Luna Lovegood was indeed a loony. I looked at him, at this tall, skinny boy with long dirty blonde hair. He could be considered as handsome, I guess. To ruin a date with such a boy should be a crime.

But you guessed it. I don't really care.

----------

In an hour's time he will be here. I don't want to think about it.

_What was all that about?_ I can picture his bemused frown, and his question, and his dismissal of it as something trivial. _Just another of Luna's many problems, _he will think.

Why am I always like this? Is it my... talent? Can being a nuisance be qualified as a talent? I don't want to be a trouble, a problem. I don't want to bother anyone, particularly not him. But it seems that I can't stop being a trouble. I can't stop myself from hurting myself and others. I can't...

_It is only an excuse, Luna._

I sometimes heard him talking to me in my mind. I heard him clearly, and it's driving me nuts. Like I am arguing with myself constantly.

_Are you a defeatist?_

No.

_Then why are you always so negative about everything?_

Am not.

_You are a defeatist._

Am not a defeatist! Am not anything!

_There you go again. Luna, we can't help you this way. You have to help yourself._

I- I tried.

_I don't see any improvements._

I tried, I tried! I really have. Why don't you believe me? I have tried my best. I have paid an effort. I want to be normal. Just normal. I have done everything I could.

_I see._

But have I?

_Why are you doubting yourself, Luna?_

What if... maybe I haven't. Maybe I thought I have, but I haven't really. Maybe I just enjoy being sad subconsciously- it is at least an emotion, you know- so I just keep moping on some terribly minor thing, until it swell and fill my chest.

_It's no use to know it, Luna. You have to solve it._

Unsolvable. It is unsolvable. I will stay this way for the rest of my life.

_Excuses, excuses._

I don't know. Or maybe I know. I know, I know, I know. It is my fault. It is me again, isn't it?

I- I think I need to go for a walk.

----------

Five minutes to session, must keep breath steady. Keep hand steady. Really shouldn't have run all the way up.

But who- oh Merlin help me. I am shaking.

Hermione and Snape kissing behind the greenhouses.

Hallucination?

I don't think so.

Oh Merlin.

----------

A/N: I hope this is not the beginning of yet another four-month wait. I will try my best to write more and faster! Anonymous readers, please leave your email to be on the mailing list. REVIEW, and toodles!


	5. Fifth Entry

Disclaimer: Nothing related to the HP universe belongs to me. Surprise!

A/N: Ooookay. I know I promised to update soon, and many of you probably have given up on this story (and me). I am sorry. My lack of update is explained in the e-mail and on my website. Go and take a look if you care so much, and after that you can hit me with an asparagus. Anyway, from now on I will update again. Stay tuned and thank you for your understanding and your patience.

**hinkypunk2: **Thanks. I do try to keep Luna and Ron in character. It's very encouraging to know that some of you think so!

**Plum Blossoms: **Hope you enjoy this chapter too, and I am having fun here in Hawaii! I love it here!

**SnidgetAndCo: **Ah, sorry for the Hermione/Snape bit. I have always been a SS/HG shipper, and since I need to get Hermione out of the way in this fic...-shrugs-

**kassey182: **Yep, Hermione is meant to be with Severus, and Ron is stuck with Luna in this fic.

**Mayumi: **Sorry for taking even longer to update this time. I promise that won't happen again. SS/HG is my favorite ship, I really can't resist to throw a bit of it into this story, hehe. -sheepish grin-

**Cycla: **Thanks!

**Vulcaine7: **Sorry for the wait, but I have not planned to, and will never abandon this story, so no worries! -winks-

**Mellypea: **Thanks, and sorry for the wait!

**Yav aka Shibs: **Wow, you are good! But I am not answering that, you will just have to wait and see...

**Blood-Covered-Ivory: **It took me half a year to update this time, sorry! I am glad you like the story and the plot!

----------

Fifth Entry:

I did not tell him what I saw.

It is not a big deal, really. I don't care if Hermione is shagging the ugly bat three times a day.

Who am I kidding?

I am a coward. I can't bear to be the one to break to him the news. Your girlfriend is cheating behind your back? Geez, I can think of better topics to talk about. Besides, our session today was nothing less than awkward without my help.

"Luna?"

I snapped around to the voice. Ron was standing behind me, his hair messy from the wind. How long had he been here?

"Are you alright?"

I turned to face him properly. Not trusting my voice yet, I nodded.

"You seem to be out of breath," he commented and sat down in his usual armchair.

"I am, uh-" I cleared my throat. "Practicing yoga."

"Yoga," he repeated skeptically, but did not ask again. I let out a furtive sigh of relief.

"So, how is your week?" I chirped, deciding not to wander on dangerous grounds.

He narrowed his eyes further. I fidgeted under his scrutiny. Had I spread it on too thick? Was my voice too cheerful?

"Fine," he said finally, leaning back in his chair. I released my breath. It was not as easy as it seemed, to lie to him.

But I am not lying, I reasoned with myself. I am just-

_Not telling him the truth, _inserted my inner voice nastily.

"Luna!"

He called, and I had the feeling that he had been doing so for sometime. I looked at him sheepishly.

He frowned. "You are distracted today."

"More so than usual, you mean?"

"Yes," he said, not sounding amused. "Are there something on your mind?"

"No," I denied a little too quickly. Sitting straighter on my bed, I gave him my most innocent look.

"Someone?"

"No!"

"A particular gentleman, by the name of... Keyes?"

"Ron!"

He laughed that mesmerizing laugh of his. I sat there, momentarily lost in his mirthful face. The late afternoon sun shone through the window behind me, stretching a beautiful orange square of light on the wooden floor and on him.

"Is he your boyfriend?" He asked, a grin still on his lips.

"He is not, nor will he ever be," I replied as nonchalantly as I could manage. Truth was, an indignation was building slowing inside. A rare thing, to say the least.

"He seems to be a capable, handsome fellow," he commented. I got off my bed and strode over to the window. The sun was setting behind the lonely mountain ranges, painting the sky a magnificent mixture of pink, orange and purple. How serene the view seemed, I thought, nothing like what I was feeling. He was so eager to find me a partner.

_Jolly, Loony Luna finally got herself some attention! Let's seize the chance- who knows? It might very well not happen again!_

"You can tell me if you are dating. After all, you are seventeen and of age," he continued.

"Don't try to sound like my father!" I swirled and snarled in anger.

"Luna?" He sounded startled.

I was sorry almost immediately. He, being Ronald Weasley, did not have a clue about affair of this kind. He was just saying what he thought was good for me.

_Oh, and how you loathe his charity!_

I ignored the mocking voice and relaxed my clenched fists. Knowing very well that all he could see was my silhouette, I laced all my emotions on my face. The love, the desire, the devastation, the weariness, the rage, the burning jealousy. I unleashed them, surprising even myself with the many feelings that were stored within.

"I don't think I will date just yet," I said, softly but coldly. "There is no love inside me, after all."

He started scribbling in his damn notebook. Even at this time, I was no more to him than a few notes on a page.

"And I don't understand it. Love, I mean."

He muttered something under his breath, and I couldn't catch what he said.

"Sorry?"

"Never mind," he replied, looking up from his notebook, his composure back in place. Smiling indulgently, he gestured the bed. "I am sorry for what I said. Forgive me and come sit down."

I pouted, hating his smile and his patience. He made me felt like a spoiled child.

"Let's b-

----------

Okay. That hasn't just happened.

Merlin, why is my life such a big pile of mess?

Somehow, the word 'awkward' just couldn't quite describe the scenario here a few moments ago.

Why me? _Why me?_

I wish I can say that I don't care and forget all about it and get a good night's sleep. However, either all that 'therapy' has somehow succeeded at knocking something into me, or that this is too big a thing to _ not _care about, I just can't take it out of my mind.

Half an hour ago, I was on this very same bed, writing in this very same journal, minding my own business quietly and not disturbing anyone. I could write in content and maybe study a bit in peace, but no, someone _had _to come and bother me.

"Enter," I shouted at the door, irritated. But the knocking did not cease. Grumbling, I slipped off my bed and walked over to the door.

"Hi," Keyes beamed at me as I yanked the heavy door open. I scowled.

"What are you-"

Too late. He was already in the room. I slammed the door and walked to the center of the room, where he was looking around curiously.

"Bigger than the boys' rooms, I see."

"How did you come up here?" I demanded, not in the mood to be sociable.

"I charmed the mat in front of the fireplace to fly me up here, of course," he replied giddily, sitting down on my bed. "I am quite- how does one put it- well-versed with Charms, you see."

I did not doubt his capability in Charms. What I doubted was his intention. Sighing heavily, I plopped myself next to him. "You are not supposed to be in here. We are going to get into trouble."

He seemed to delight at the idea. "Your roommates won't be back until curfew. It's Saturday."

"What do you want, Keyes?"

"Your Astronomy essay..."

"You don't even _take _Astronomy," I interrupted.

If at all possible, his grin widened at this. "Oh. So you know."

"I don't care about what you are taking," I said, sighing for the second time. Impossible creatures boys could be sometimes. "Just get what you want and be gone."

"I want _you_, Luna," he whispered. I sat back in alarm. Keyes threw back his head and laughed.

"I was just kidding!" He managed through his fits of laughter.

Then, looking serious again (if he had ever been serious, that was), he cast his gaze on me. "I don't want you that way, not any more. Besides," he paused. "You like him, don't you?"

I did not ask him who did he mean.

"I want your trust," he continued, covering my hand with his own. "I want you as a friend."

_A friend?_

I have friends. I have Ginny and Ron and Hermione and Harry and Neville and many others.

But a complete outsider? Someone who doesn't know the madness I am living in?

It was a tempting idea.

I leaned in closer, staring into the his pupils, the deepest of his soul, for any deceit. He opened wide and looked back at me calmly-

_Bam!_

Both of us jumped. The first thought that flew through my mind was that he was to be caught, but as I turned, I saw that it was much worse than that.

For the first time of his life, Ron had entered my room without knocking.

"Did I interrupt something?" He said snidely, not a tone he used very often.

I shook my head and withdrew my hand hastily. Keyes glanced at me, then at Ron, who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley," Keyes greeted formally with a glint in his eye. I glared at him. What did the dim-witted troll think he was doing?

"I left my notebook," explained Ron, not acknowledging Keyes. With three long steps he glided over to the table and snatched up the notebook. I watched as he walked across the room and felt my palms sweated.

"Luna," he said as he reached the door and turned back. "I can't come next week."

I opened my mouth to say something, but he was already gone.

"Good day to you too, Mr. Weasley!" Keyes yelled after him. I turned back to Keyes, my mind and my face blank. All was happening too fast. My brain struggled to make sense of it all. Had I just imagined it?

"Well," I said eventually. "He shouldn't have been so rude to you. I am sorry."

"You are being silly," he replied kindly. He did not seem to be much troubled by Ron's demeanor, unlike me. This was so confusing. It was most peculiar of Ron to act like that, almost _hostile_... but I thought he rather liked Keyes, from what he said earlier...?

"He is not usually like this," I explained, straining to find a satisfactory explanation for myself. "I mean-"

He held up a hand and quieted me. "It is all very fascinating, I am sure, but this is really not the time to talk."

I looked at him, bemused. He winked and hurried out of the room without another word.

Five minutes later, Professor McGonagall rushed into my room- she was not even the Head of my house- to find me writing in this journal. This is getting stranger and stranger.

Apparently, there is more in Keyes than that meets the eye. It will be an agreeable experience to befriend him, I suppose.

More curious is this: Ron told McGonagall of Keyes being in my room. But why?

----------

I do not appreciate being confused, not one bit. I have been thinking a lot since Saturday, but the more I try to understand what is going on, the more puzzling it seems. I have tried to busy myself with schoolwork, or to convince myself that I don't care, but I simply couldn't put it down, like everything that had to do with a certain red-head.

"Argh," I mumbled exasperatedly. To me, emotions are tiring and absolutely unnecessary. Men can live without them, so why does the Power-Up-There embed them in us? Just to mess with our lives?

"Wow," Keyes blew a loud whistle. "You really can clear that face of yours."

"Shut up," I replied idly. Over the week we had become some kind of friends. He was an interesting fellow, fully possessing the intelligence that makes one a Ravenclaw, albeit quite a noisy one. I confided in him some of my secrets, and it felt good to have someone with a fresh perspective to talk to. Meanwhile we were taking a walk around the castle. Stupid, I know, but he practically dragged me out of the Tower, lecturing about exercise and my health.

"I thought you can't be irritated," he said.

I glared at him. He smiled innocently. Ignoring him, I quickened my pace. The corridor was deserted, and light spilled in from the arch-windows. With longer legs and the inherent advantage of being a male, he caught up with ease. Our footsteps on the stone echoed in the hallway.

"Are you angry with me?"

"Why would I be?"

"Because of... Weasley?"

I sighed. "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous."

"Then why are you angry?"

"I am not."

"You are."

"Am not."

"Are too."

This game, despite its popularity, got old really fast. I threw my hand into the air, and cried,

"I am _not _angry! I am just worried."

"You _are_ angry now," he grinned, thoroughly pleased with himself. "And worry about what?"

"About having a pest for a friend," I grumbled darkly.

"About Weasley, right?"

"Contrary to what you think, Keyes, not all my problems stem from him."

"Then what are you worried about?"

"Okay, so I am worried about him," I admitted and shot him an acid glower. He sniggered. "He was acting strange."

"And you reckon...?" He asked as we took a turn and walked across the meadow.

"That perhaps he found out about Hermione and Snape," I confirmed. Keyes grimaced.

"Isn't that a good thing, though? Now he will notice you as the pretty girl you are."

"No," I shook my head, causing my very long hair to flutter wildly in the wind. "No matter what, he-"

"Luna!"

We looked up and there by the lake sat Ginny and Neville. She waved at us. I could see her smile from afar.

"This place is taken!" She shouted. "Go kiss somewhere else!"

Before I could respond, Keyes had shouted back, "We are just friends!"

"What?" The look on Ginny was one of bemusement. "But Ron said-"

"We Are JUST Friends!" As if to prove his point, Keyes shove me playfully. I scowled at him and kicked him swiftly in the shin. He yelped in pain. It must have been a pretty loud yelp, because Ginny started giggling. I bid the lovebirds farewell and pulled Keyes out of there.

Once out of their sight, Keyes complained, "is that what an emotionless freak would do?"

"Oh, shut your mouth, dolt."

"Loony."

"Prattle Kettle."

"Wuss."

"Brat."

"Liar."

I glared. Liar? Where did that come from?

"Well, it is completely clear by now that you lied to me," he said, folding his arms.

"What are you talking about?"

"Obviously, you have plenty of feelings inside," said he, in a tone that said 'I am making perfect sense and you are stupid for not getting it'.

"What _are_ you talking about?" I repeated, feeling more than a little annoyed.

"You have not lost your emotions, as you so readily believe," he poked my head. "I think they are all in here. You have not lost them rather than... lost contact with them."

"And how would you know, Mr. Mental-Healer-Wanna-Be?" I sneered, slapping away his hand.

He merely chuckled and escorted me back to my room.

Does he know something that I don't?

This is all getting more and more confounding.

----------

Did that just happened? Was it one of my wishful fantasies running lose? Oh, please tell me it was not an imagination. Alpha and Omega, Merlin in his favorite robes, _please_ let it be true!

"Stop giggling already," Keyes is saying next to me. We are in the Common Room now, next to the homey fire and having the table all to ourselves. At the far corner, a couple of third-years are engaging in a most silly game of Exploding Snap. I have-

A certain moron with the face of a Flobberworm is trying to read my diary. I hope he will get the clue and bug off.

Good. He does.

"Who's reading your stinky diary?" He is muttering under his breath.

"Who is, I wonder?" Am trying not to laugh. This is so amusing.

He glares at me, then turns back to his DADA essay. "You're too cheerful," he is saying sulkily.

"You are jealous."

"You don't know what you've gotten yourself into."

Hmmm. Pondering that sentence, I reckon there is a sort of sense in that... I try hard to recall what happened this afternoon. Ron had appeared out of nowhere today. It was a shock, to say the least.

"Ron!" I exclaimed when he came out from behind one of those huge pillars flanking the corridor to the grounds. It was another one of those 'afternoon strolls' with Keyes, and we skidded to a stop as Ron appeared, as did our conversation.

He was looking a bit ruffled, as if he had come in a great hurry. His hair was swept back and sticking out, and his sleeves were rolled up. There was a broom in his left hand. Not the usual one he used, I recognized, the one he got when he graduated.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

Ron nodded in Keyes' direction, and extended his hand. Keyes took it.

"Will you care to tell me, what _are _you doing here on a weekday?" I demanded, more than a little frustrated at their apparent lack of ability to comprehend the situation.

"I come here to look for you, of course," he said, shrugging as if it was the most natural thing to do to desert his training.

"You should be at the ATC!" I shrilled. The Auror Training Center was not known for its leniency when it came to treating undisciplined Aurors-in-training.

"Relax," he said, holding up his broom. "I am assigned to deliver a confidential message to someone in Hogsmeade, too important a message to be trusted to the owls or the Floo. I just thought I might drop by en route. Aren't you happy to see me?" He feigned a hurt look.

I was relieved to see the smile on his lips. The old Ron was back. This was the Ron I knew, not the one with a stony face. It seemed so long ago, and I wondered whether I had truly met that side of him.

"Cut it off," I said, feeling my emotions going away, as they often did when talking with him. I felt Keyes' gaze on my face. "You should really get going."

"Well, I just thought," Ron scratched his head. "If you, ah... would want to, I mean, let's go to Hogsmeade tomorrow."

"I thought you said the session tomorrow's cancelled."

"It is not a session," he replied uneasily. "It is-"

"A date," offered Keyes, very helpfully.

"Ah," said Ron, even more uncomfortable. "So... Luna?"

"Okay," I said, scowling at Keyes. Ron mounted his broom, and-

Read another sentence and I will hex you to the next dimension, Jonathon Keyes.

"What?" He is turning back to his parchment hastily, and- hahaha, he has just knocked his inkbottle over and now there is ink all over his essay. Serves you right, nosy git! I am not bothering to hide my cackles.

"Har har," he grumbles, waving his wand and cleaning up the table, but there is little he can do to the essay. He will have to write it again.

"That's for poking your nose into my journal," I smirk.

"Well, sorry for caring!"

"You worry too much, Keyes," about things that should not have been of your concern.

"Don't come running in tears when he hurts you," he says, putting down his quill. "Have you really thought about it, Luna? What is his purpose of asking you out so suddenly? Surely not that he has found a sudden undying love for you?"

I can feel the heat rushing onto my cheeks. Damn Keyes...

"Maybe he just wants you to help him choose a gift for Hermione," he suggests. "Christmas is coming, you know."

I open my mouth, then close it again. What he has said, again, made annoyingly good sense. Knowing Ron, that can very well be his intention. He has asked for my advice on their date before, hasn't he?

_Merlin's prized pickle jar, _I find myself thinking in horror as the initial mirth wears off, thanks to Keyes, _what am I going to do tomorrow?_

----------

A/N: Yeepee! -cartwheels across the room- You'll get an update next time! Got it? Update, a date? -looks around- Ok, not funny. -sulks-

I like how this chapter goes, and I hope Jonathan is not becoming a sort of Gary-Sue. I hate to insert OC into my stories, but the plot demands one here. Anyway, REVIEW and make me one happy author. Anonymous reviewers, leave your email so I can add you on the update list. Mahalo!


	6. Sixth Entry

Disclaimer: This is really, really not mine. Really.

A/N: Thanks for the nice reviews! Once again, this update took a long time to come, but I assure you that it's worth the effort of reading. School work has assumed its evil role of preventing me from frequent update, but I have tried to write as much as I can.

**Plum Blossoms: **Thanks for your understanding! It's for readers like you that authors write.

**Yav aka Shibs: **I am glad you like Jonathon. He's a cute OC... maybe I should write a story just about him and Susan Bones... Nah. -kicks away plot bunny-

**Kat: **Thanks!

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**kassey182: **Thanks!

* * *

In a couple of minutes he will be here. 

I am lying on my belly on my bed, writing in this journal. I refuse to fiddle like some helpless third years before their first date.

That, from a girl who just fiddled in front of the mirror for half an hour trying to find the best outfit, is not very convincing. And my toes are still twitching. Not a good sign.

Merlin, before the date even started I feel exhausted. So much is running through my mind that it makes no sense, and it is very tiring to be happy and worry and think logically at the same time.

What should I say to him on our way? Report on my week as I usually do? Talk about my emotions, or the lack thereof? Is it just another therapy session, only to be carried outdoors?

And how should I look? Smile? What if I can't? I have never been able to feel anything around Ron, unlike the time I spend with Keyes.

But Keyes has also said that I haven't lost my emotions, only the contact with them.

Then again, there is not much evidence that he knew what he was talking about. There is not much evidence that he is sane.

Keyes has wondered about Ron's motive. It is simply too strange of Ron to be so absurdly angry one day, and come and ask me out on another, isn't it?

Damn Keyes' Ravenclaw reasoning! And damn mine, too, for acknowledging that he is right.

Argh. My head is throbbing. Maybe, if I can think of a good excuse...

Oh brilliant. It's too late. He's here.

* * *

We are in a nicely decorated cafe right now. The sunrays are coming through the large window next to us, shining merrily on our table. Short, green hedges are planted around the small shop, and they, together with the enticing smell of coffee, create an extraordinarily relaxing atmosphere. 

"It's really depressing to know you prefer that diary's company to mine," Ron says.

"Well, look who's the one with the Daily Prophet in front of him."

"That's only because you took that out!"

I ignore his protest. Truth is, while I do not prefer this journal to him, I do find it safer to write than to talk. The walk from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade was pleasant. We talked about the weather, our lives, gossiped about people we both know. Easy enough a conversation, but the fear of running out of topics was ever present, tugging on my tongue and making me stutter. So if I can help it, I will spread out our small talks lest any awkward silences should befall us.

Another pressing concern is that, my lips are getting tired at the corners from turning up for so long. If only I can-

"What is there to write about anyway?" He is saying sulkily.

"Don't whine," I reply. "It is you who advised me to write, remember?"

"Not when you're with me."

"Do pardon me, milord. I am truly humbled by your presence."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't write while you talk. It sounds like you're reading instead of conversing."

"Good. Advice." I say, putting down these words deliberately. "In. That. Case, I. Think. I. Will. Just. Write."

"Fine, be that way," he grumbles, picking up the newspaper again. "Ignore me until the guy comes."

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop a grin from forming on my face. The urge to grin is foreign, but it doesn't feel too bad. 'The guy' is the messenger that we are waiting for. He is going to deliver something apparently so important that Ron has to come in person to pick it up. The 'something' will later be delivered to the Ministry. At least now I know part of Ron's purpose of being here today.

The brunch here is unexpectedly delicious. I especially enjoy the tea, which flavor is so rich that it lingers on my taste buds long after the liquid has slid down my throat. I definitely should get some more of-

Hmmm. A strange man is peering at us outside. His cloak has been pulled low, and I can't see his face except his wiry beard. Is he a beggar? If he really is that hungry, I can give him my half-eaten waffles...

"Oh-"

"What is it, Luna?"

"Nothing. There's a beggar outside and eyeing my food, and I am thinking of giving it to him... but he caught my eye and scurried away."

"You aren't eating those anymore?"

"No, you can have it if you want."

"That's awfully annoying, Luna. Stop writing down everything I said. We said."

"Yes. Sir."

* * *

Gladwags Wizardwear is a cramped shop sitting nicely between Zonko's and Scrivenshaft's Quill on the High Street. Although not with a selection as wide as the one in Madam Malkin's, it provides an array of robes in all imaginable colors for almost every occasion. Now with the holiday season barely a week away, the shop is overflowed with racks of thick, furry coats in varying hues of red, green, gold and white. Right next to the door stands a large shelf displaying all kinds of socks. 

Would Keyes appreciate a pair of owl-patterned socks?

While I am sitting at this corner, pondering whether the entertainment I am no doubt to obtain seeing Keyes' expression upon receiving such a gift is worth facing his resulting wrath, Ron is rummaging through the selection of clothing, discussing with a very animated witch whom I presume to be the owner.

"Will this shrink if charmed with a warming jinx?"

"This is made of the best cashmere there is, sir! You don't _need _to charm it!"

Ah, the mystery of clothes. While the majority of witches would undoubtedly enjoy such a conversation, it is also the precise reason that I prefer to order my robes through owl. I can't seem to bring myself to fuss over how they might 'bring out the color of my eyes' or 'accentuate my figure.'

_That explains a lot about your fiddling in front of the mirror this morning._

Where in Salazar's bungalow did my inner voice pick up that irritating streak of sarcasm? As I lock it into a mental box, then put it into another box, then another, and wrap the said boxes with a chain, I feel Ron sitting down next to me.

"Oh, you're done? Do we go now?"

"No, Luna. Madam Hawke has gone inside to bring out more samples."

"Oh."

"For the name of everything nice, can't you show more enthusiasm?"

"Fabulous, Ron! I've never seen so many robes before. I am_ so_ thrilled!" I pull a fake bright smile, showing all my teeth.

"And you get to try them on, too."

"I do?"

So this is what it's all about. I want to point out that I am slightly shorter than Hermione, and am no where as curvy. I have a figure of an ironing board. And my sense of fashion is that of a blind man. I want to reason to him that, I am no more suitable to try on clothes for Hermione than he is.

But of course, he will not see reason. My attempts to talk logically to him have always been futile.

"Are you not enjoying yourself, Luna?"

That face, that- that expression, that voice, the disappointment so thickly spread on, the little plea behind his eyes, as if he is still a boy. I blink.

"Of course I am."

And there is that smile, widening so readily and innocently. It makes me wonder for a moment whether he has played a trick on me.

Does it matter? What I have said is the truth. I am enjoying myself, despite my doubts and self-pity and the ever nearby jealousy. Being with him is more than I can hope for. I can-

Ron retreats behind the copy of Witches Weekly he picked up on the desk when he has caught my glare. No one, not even him- especially not him- has the right to read my journal.

He is peeping again.

"Interesting choice of magazine, Ron," I comment, not raising my eyes from the page. He goes back to his disguise of attentive reading, holding up the magazine higher. The flashy cover bears the topic of the week: Top Ten Ways to Deal with Cramps. I sincerely hope he is not reading that, or else he's bound to have some nightmares tonight...

Though, why am I worried when all he is doing is reading over my shoulder?

"_Dissimulo verbus_," I say, tapping my wand on this page. Ron pretends to not have heard me. This is a nifty little spell I learned from a book last year. It's amazing how much useful stuff they left out from the syllabus at Hogwarts.

Ron Weasley stinks because he baths only once a month.

Hmm. If he's seen the above line, he sure isn't showing it.

Maybe because that's the truth. Snicker, snicker.

Ron Weasley loves to stick into other people's business with his abhorrently large nose which is rivaling the size of Snape's!

That hasn't gotten any reaction from him either. The spell has worked perfectly.

Ron Weasley is a selfish git for doing this to me.

And still, I love him. Merlin knows, I love him even though he hurts me so much.

I love Ron Weasley!

Oh boy, that feels _good._

"Miss Lovegood?"

Madam Hawke is back, hardly visible behind the pile of clothes in her hands. The word 'terrified' just doesn't quite start to describe my feeling.

* * *

Gods. I am still in a daze. 

The Three Broomsticks has never seem so cramped before. I am breathing in short, noisy gasps. The emptiness in my stomach is doing nothing to help my nausea, either.

Nauseous. That's what I am feeling. Maybe I am a bit delirious, too. I must be seeing things.

Only the event feels too real to be an illusion. I can still feel the biting cold on my cheeks from standing so long in the snow.

Why? Why must all the most unthinkably terrible things always happen to me at the most unfortunate times? Did I unknowingly offend some power of the universe?

Half of my mind doesn't believe, can't believe, what happened. However, the other half of me _knows _it has indeed happened, and is depressed over it, if 'depress' is not too strong a word.

If only I had tried on one more set of robes. If only I had not insisted on leaving so soon. If only I had not mentioned that I was quite famished after the ordeal with Madam Hawke. If only... then we wouldn't have bumped into Hermione.

Arms in arms with my Potions Professor. Merlin.

Joking, looking positively happy, oblivious to their surroundings.

Would it be a crime to say that Ron and I were in a similar state, discussing heatedly over something I can't remember now, not noticing their presence until- until I literally _bumped _into Hermione?

"Luna!" Hermione sounded startled when she saw me. I cringed at the scene and what was about to come.

_Please, not on our first date._

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Lovegood," Snape nodded slightly at us, his face pale and unfathomable. I nodded back, too stunned to do anything else.

"Good afternoon, Professor," replied Ron, his voice completely cheerful.

I balled my hands into tight fists, pinching the inside of my palms, fighting the urge to shake. I did not dare to look at Ron. The anguish on his face would be too much for me to bear.

"A perfectly good day for Christmas shopping, of course," I came to myself in time to catch Snape saying, his voice devoid of sarcasm.

"For a date, too," added Hermione.

_What is she doing? Twisting the knife in? _I risked a glare at her. She was smiling, wrinkling the corners of her eyes. There was something in her smile, and I could swear that she had winked at Ron.

_A signal, but what?_

Ron did not reply, but stood closer to me. I could not tell whether this was an act of defiance, of protest or of seeking refuge. I only knew that my presence was of some significance between them. What that was remained to be revealed- I carefully filed that for my future meditative purposes. In the meantime, though...

"By the way, Professor, I've-"

"Not here, Mr. Weasley!"

I had no idea what they were talking about. I was still in a state of shock as Ron pushed me into the tavern, seated me comfortably at a table near the Christmas tree, and went out to talk with Snape again. Some Order's business, no doubt.

Ron was even better at this hiding-my-emotion thing than me. His voice has not quivered, his body has not stiffened, and he was even willing to go out there to face Snape and Hermione alone, though the latter might be plain Griffindor bravery. The only thing he did out of ordinary was to stand closer to me. And if he was trying to find comfort in the situation by showing Hermione that he had a date too, then comfort I would offer.

If he needs a friend's shoulder to lean on later, then a shoulder I will provide.

_What about yourself, Luna? _Asked my curiously sympathetic inner voice.

Me?

Oh.

There is always my beloved covers on my bed, under which I can always hide when hebecomes unbearably cruel.

_Clank._

Some wizard sitting near the door has knocked his goblet onto the floor in his haste to stand up. Madam Rosmerta is rushing over in alarm. Fortunately, there was not much Butterbeer left in the goblet, and the little that remained is now seeping through the cracks on the floor. The man pushed open the door and left, nearly hitting Ron who was entering in the process.

A strange feeling rises up in my abdomen. I have seen that man before.

"Don't tell me you're writing in that cursed diary again," Ron groaned when he sat down.

I shook my head, trying to erase the uneasy sensation.

"Put that away," Ron sa-

* * *

Only hours ago did he playfully snatch away this very journal, shoving the menu in front of me. 

And now, only hours later, he is lying there, apparently lifeless.

He is ghastly. Can a living human be possibly so white? He is almost transparent in the shadow.

His hand is flopped at his side. Picking it up, I try to detect a pulse. His hand is cold and, like the rest of his body, lifeless. If not for the Healers' repeated assurance, I would have started arranging his funeral already.

"Wake up, you dolt," I have whispered. "Wake up. I wouldn't leave unless you wake up. Do you really want me to stay in this forlorn place for the night?"

My words have yet shown their effect. I understand. If I were the one who was in a coma, I wouldn't want to be left alone in the Intense Treatment Ward. This room reeks of death.

"Wake up," I whisper again. He does not even stir, like he is in some deep, peaceful slumber.

His face is so sweet that it forces my eyes away.

I look up and see the now-familiar blank wall, extending to the far end of the elongated room, where a lone pane of window stands, where the moonlight is spilling across the tiled floor. It never quite reaches us, the moonlight.

The room is so quiet. Not the comfortable tranquility one gets in the early morning, but a dead silence. Sometimes I stop writing- and when the quill stops scratching on the paper, I can almost hear the thin noise of air wheezing in and out of him. It is a difficult sight to bear, but I dare not close my eyes. Because once my eyelashes as much as flutter, terrible, terrible things start to replay in my head.

We would be back in Hogsmeade, stepping out of the Three Broomsticks, fed to our hearts' content. The wind was chilly, but I hardly noticed it because he was telling me a good joke about two dragons and a banshee, trying to pry open my tightly-sealed lips. I only pursed them tighter, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of making me laugh. It was a really funny joke, though, and it was getting harder and harder to keep my poker-face.

"And then the banshee replied..." he glanced at me to see my reaction, and my face must be red from the effort, because he burst out guffawing.

"What did she say?" My voice quivered as a giggle attempted to break through.

He was opening his mouth to answer when I saw them. A group of hooded creatures, tall, menacing, pulling out their wands, pushing through the crowd, advancing on us. He followed my line of gaze and immediately pulled out his wand. I followed in confusion.

"Stupefy!"

A jet of light hit where I was standing seconds ago. He pulled my arm and roughly pushed me behind his tall frame. We slowly backed away as the mob- the Death Eaters, I recognized- slowly gained on us. Half of my mind idly registered the fact that the crowd had dispersed into hiding in record time. The other half panicked as we backed into a solid wall. The Death Eaters formed a semi-circle around us.

"A Weasley," a voice taunted contemptuously. I peered from behind his back, and saw who seemed to be the leader of the group stepped forward.

"Yes, sir," Ron replied in a composed voice. "Who may I be addressing?"

The man laughed. A shrill, evil sound.

"You Aurors are all the same," he stopped laughing abruptly, and pointed his wand at us. "Hand it over, Weasley."

"I've no idea wha-"

"Stupefy!"

"Protego!"

Ron had seen the curse coming and blocked it with a swift spell. I trembled behind him, the bricks on the wall stubbing my back uncomfortably. I had not been in a duel since my fourth year, and even then we were not so dreadfully outnumbered.

A few more curses were thrown at us but Ron blocked them all effectively. Then, the leader put up a hand.

"What are you all doing out of your holes? There's no more Voldemort to protect you now, you know," Ron jeered, but I could feel his tensed muscles heaving as he panted.

"Let's not play games anymore, young one," the leader held up his hand again, stopping a few of his enraged comrades. "We know you have it."

"I saw him getting it," a man piped up on the left. I glanced at him- and recognized the small man as the 'beggar' outside of the cafe earlier, and the man in the Three Broomstick. His beard jutted out from beneath his mask. I concealed my gasp.

"We will not kill you," the leader said, his tone dipping nastily low. "Not yet. Hand the prophecy over and we'll spare your lives."

"It is not with me," Ron answered. I didn't know whether to believe him or not.

"Locomotor Mortis," the man pointed his wand casually, and even though Ron was still standing, I knew at once that his legs had locked together and he couldn't hope to walk very soon.

"Do whatever you like, the prophecy is not with me," he said coldly. I wondered was this how I usually sound- void and blank of emotions.

"Sir, should we-"

"Exosossis Totalus!"

My eyes widened as I saw a Death Eater suddenly slumped like a sack of flesh. The group of Death Eaters turned around. I let out a small sigh- help had arrived.

I did not stay relieved for too long as all hell broke lose around me. Flashes of light shone as jinxes were thrown and hit their target. I could not stay whimpering behind Ron, not when he was fighting hard when he couldn't even walk. I came out and started tossing curses at the Death Eaters. At that moment, I was glad that I had paid attention during DADA.

Our side was winning. I could hear the Death Eaters Disapparating away. I turned to look at Ron. He was still standing by the wall. A film of perspiration was shining on his forehead, his hair was messy, and he was breathing heavily. All in all, he was as handsome as ever.

"Are you alright?" I asked, feeling the adrenaline flushing away and my head lightening.

He flashed me a tired smile and nodded.

I returned the smile hesitantly, as the strange urge to cry into him wrenched inside me. I took out my handkerchief but before-

Before I could gently wipe away the sweat on his face, I fell backward. Falling, falling, falling as I watched his hands that had pushed me froze in their position, his eyes filled with relief on me, and the white spurt of light hit his neck.

Then my bottom contacted with the ground, painfully. And the slow-motion picked up speed, slowly at first, people's shouts dragged out, then everything rushed in, the Healers, the Aurors, Snape, and then it became a blur, I stayed sitting until someone came and picked me up, the world still blurry to me. Colors, sounds, voices, memories. All meshed together. I sat on a green bench in the St. Mungo's. Hermione came. The Weasleys. Hugs. Tears. Questions.

From the chaos of my mind, only one thing emerged clear. And it was an echo:

_I did it again. I did it again. I did it again.

* * *

_

A/N: _Dissimulo verbus_: Disappear words (this is not entirely correct. You will find out why soon enough. Hee hee)

_Exosossis Totalus_: Remove bones entirely

Ahh, the glory of online Latin dictionaries. I apologize for not learning the beautiful language and have to resort to direct translation.

The next chapter will be the last, and there will be an epilogue. So 2 more installments to go! This is going to be my first completed fic. I hope you are all enjoying it so far. REVIEW! Anonymous reviewers, please leave your email address if you wish to be on the contact list.


	7. Seventh Entry

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the HP universe.

A/N: Another update! Aren't you proud of me? My muse refuses to work on other stories until I finish this, so here it is! A long, nice final chapter for you. I hope this ties up a few of the loose ends. I am getting so many reviews that I was seriously tempted to delay this update so that I may get more of them... nah. Won't do that to you. -smiles-

**BuckNC: **You will find out why in this chapter, tee hee hee. Thank you for reviewing!

**Yav aka Shibs: **Yes, those will be answered in this final chapter. Thanks!

**bleedingheart666:** And I love you for reviewing! Thank you, and this is a quick update for you!

**Plum Blossoms:** I know how it may get confusing in the last chapter. I hope this chapter will make everything clear! I do have a few other stories, and will be _very _happy if you go and check some of them out. -hint hint-

**Snidget-And-Co:** Oh, the Death Eaters meant business and they were for real, but they did achieve in "tricking her feelings to come back." Do I look like the angsty kind to you? Ron is fine, as you'll find out soon enough...

**Vulcaine7: **Thank you! -blushes and fidgets-

**me: **Thank you!

**hollyg20:** As I am a SS/HG shipper, it is really hard for me to refrain from putting a bit in this story... sorry. -grins sheepishly- I hope this quick update comes as a pleasant surprise to you! -winks-

**BakaAngel: **-chews on cookie- Thanks for the treat. I am glad you like the story!

* * *

Christmas.

Many people would pay a fortune to have a white Christmas. I am not sure I like it that much, though.

White walls, white tiles, white covers, white pillows, white bandages, white patients. Not snowy white, but sterilely white, completed with the pervasive smell of antiseptic.

It was indeed the whitest Christmas I had ever experienced. I hoped with all my heart that I would never have to experience it again.

I swallowed bitterly as I turned my gaze to the man lying on the bed and shook my head. I could be spending Christmas here next year as far as I knew. And the year after that. Salazar know when Ron coming around.

I took the brass basin from under the bed and went to the far end of the room and filled it with cool water. Carrying it gingerly back to the bed, I then carefully moved the many Get-well-soon and Christmas cards on the nightstand aside. The Weasleys had come earlier this morning, bringing many presents and cards. Ginny brought the bunch of roses that were now sitting in a vase on the tray, adding a bit of color to the horridly dull room. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hugged their youngest son, Fred and George joked a little, and Ginny just sat by me, holding my hand, whispering nothings. When they left, Mrs. Weasley gave me a bone-crushing embrace and kissed me. I could not bear her gratitude, not when her son was in a coma because of me.

As I put down the basin, cautious of not wetting any of Ron's presents and absentmindedly thinking of when he would be able to open them, I realized that for the first time in days the Weasleys had stopped prying me away from Ron and telling me to get some rest. _They have given up on me, _I thought as I looked into the water and noted that I, as they had pointed out, did look terrible. Weariness had pulled purple bags beneath my eyes and racked my lips dry.

But it was not the weariness that caused me to look awful, it was something else. I dipped the towel into the water. It was the guilt etched so obviously on my face. Yes, guilt. And despair. I learned very early on that emotions hurt, and always thought that in order to protect itself, my mind had figured out a way to get rid of feelings. I always reckoned that my feelings had gone away naturally. It wasn't until now I realized how much effort I had to put in to suppress them.

I twisted the soaked towel with both my hands. Hard.

I tried to hold my tears. I tried to tell myself that I could not feel. Just like I couldn't feel much about my Dad, so couldn't I feel for Ron. I loved him so much that I could not possibly feel anything for him.

Or my heart would be broken.

However, the sight of him laying there, completely oblivious of anything, disillusioned me. I could no longer deceive myself. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I convinced myself, no matter how real it seemed sometimes- I did possess feelings, and at this time, I could no longer muster the strength to smother them. They ran loose and rampant, taking over my body and my soul, as if they had to make up for the past years when they were contained in the darkest corner of my heart.

I folded the wet towel and began to clean his face.

If he would open his eyes now, I would see in his pupils a grieving girl, and he would widen them in surprise. When had this girl learned to grieve? When had sadness regained its position in this girl's heart?

She had learned to feel again when the man she loved laid motionless in front of her. And he would smile in triumph, telling her that he had finally succeeded. He had restored her to her former sensitive self.

But at what price?

I rubbed his neck slowly, and told him that it was not worth it.

I'd rather never to feel a thing again than to see him like this.

I wiped his arm, then lifted it to clean its other side. Routinely, nonchalantly, like I did everyday, like I would for many days, weeks, months more. It was the only little thing I could do, and in some way, I was contented- maybe, maybe I could stay with him forever then- until guilt came again and washed the thought away.

I moved to his fingers. He had long, strong fingers, that laid delicate between mine now, that wouldn't tousle my hair anymore. I held them, wiping them one by one, wondering what they would feel like when they were warm and holding me- when suddenly, a jolt. A tiny throb, more like, but definitely movement.

"Ron," I gasped, throwing down the towel and standing up. I bent over and watched his eyes. Nothing. Nothing.

"Ron," I pleaded again and cupped his face with both my hands. Then-

A twitch!

Hope!

"Healer Meek! Healer Randall!" I cried, barely holding my hysteria in. That was a twitch, I was sure of it! I ran out of the room. "Healer! Healer! He's awake! Healer! Anyone!"

My voice hit the walls of the empty hallway and died. I ran down as the seemingly endless walls and doors dashed past, my padded footsteps heavy on the tiles.

"Anyone! Please!" My voice was watery and weak, mixed with relief and panic. I bumped into someone. I did not stop to apologize. I ran on in a daze, my vision temporarily impaired- until a familiar streak of blue crossed the corner of my eye.

"Healer!" I practically threw myself at him. To his credit, the healer did not freak out. He merely drew out his wand and said a spell. Immediately a warmth I had never known, like the hug of a mother, enveloped me. My breathing slowed and I stopped before the two of us would collide.

"Miss Lovegood," Healer Meek smiled good-naturedly. "Nice to see you out exercising once in a while."

I was not in the mood for humor, and even with the calming charm on me, I couldn't help but grabbed his hand. "He's 'wake," I panted as I tugged the skilled healer. He did not need any further explanation or persuasion to move. Taking on brisk steps and a professional air, he matched along the corridors as I broke into a jog to keep up with him, using a _'Sonorus' _on himself and requesting several healers to come with him. As my lungs contracted painfully for the second time of the day, I slapped myself on the forehead mentally for not thinking of magnifying my plea for help.

When we busted into the Intense Treatment Ward, three healers were already there. My eyes wandered on them before settling on the two persons standing next to the bed- a very-worried Hermione, and my Potions professor with his arm around her shoulder. Snape looked up into my eyes, and I knew at once that it was him that I had bumped into earlier.

Healer Meek rushed over and immediately began firing questions at his team. Some of them gave their various readings of Ron, some too busy to bother. I took a step closer.

And took a step back.

Looking over to the swarm of healers bustling about and Hermione standing there with tears in her eyes, I realized that my mission here was over. Ron was awake, the ones that mattered were present, and it was time for me to leave. I might be able to stay before, when my shell of protection was still intact; but now that it was shattered and I had nowhere to hide behind, I would have to find a place to lick my wounds. Maybe someday, it would stop hurting so much, when I stopped feeling again. But I highly doubted that.

I took one last, long look at the whiteness of the room, and turned to leave-

when a sound pinned me to right where I was.

"Luna."

I turned to the bed. The healers parted a little and they were all looking at me. I looked back, and there was Ron struggling to sit up, a healer holding his shoulders and trying to push him back onto the bed.

"Luna," he called once more, his voice so weak that it was nearly drowned in the humming of the Maintenance Spells in the room, but it pierced straight into my ears.

I strode over to his side, not knowing what was shown on my face. Everything, I believe.

He gripped my hand tightly when I was beside him, like a falling man would to a piece of rope. I placed my other hand on his, and he gripped that, too.

"Don't leave me," he croaked.

So I didn't. I would never be able to say no to him. And as the healers busied themselves around me, I stared at our solidly entwined hands, and mused that there would be time later to tend the bruises.

* * *

I woke with a start, and sat up jerkily. I had fallen asleep on my chair. The moon had decided not to come out this night, and the room was very dark. Instinctively I turned to the bed, looking for the sound that had woken me. In the midst of the dreary hum of the magic, I could hear Ron's labored breath.

I lighted the candle with my wand, and looked over at him. His cheeks were tinted in an unnatural pink. I laid a hand on his sweaty forehead- he was feverish.

"Ron," I shook him slightly and fumbled for the wet towel. Cooling it with a charm and placing it on his forehead, I shook him again. The healers had warned me about a possible fever and had left behind a potion before they departed. Even though it was not something to panic about, Ron would have to consume the potion.

"Loony," he whispered with a strange smile. I sighed.

"You have to take your medicine," I said.

"I don't want to," he pouted, still not opening his eyes.

"You have to," I whispered sternly and placed both my hands on his arms in an attempt to get him to sit up. "C'mon-"

My words were cut short when he flipped his hands in lightening reflexes and pulled hard. I stumbled and fell onto him, both my hands grasping the front of his hospital pajamas. He chuckled lowly above me.

"You don't seem very ill to me," I murmured crossly and thanked in my heart for the dim light that would hopefully hide my blush. I began to push myself away from him.

He pushed my head back with a big hand, and held it there. I felt his chest rising and falling. The movement calmed me, and I stayed in that position for a long time, lost, until he cleared his throat.

"I love you, do you know that?"

The words were magnified in his ribcage, and tenfold more in my head. I stood up hastily as if I had been burnt.

"Ron," I bent over and looked into his eyes. I couldn't decide whether they were diluted in the candlelight. "You're delirious. You have to drink the potion."

He sighed, but did not protest any further and took the potion in one gulp. Moments later, he was snoring serenely beneath his covers.

I, unfortunately, was deprived of the privilege and sat wide-eyed until the first sunray seeped through the curtains.

* * *

"It's a beautiful morning," he said, stretching his arms.

I ignored him and continued arranging the fresh bunch of roses Ginny brought in earlier. Over the week I had learned quite a few things about Ron Weasley, one of them being that he was a morning person, much to my annoyance.

"I wonder what's for breakfast," he said, putting up a lopsided smile.

"Eggs, sausages and toasts," I muttered beneath my breath. "Same as every morning, as you very well know." And not even that could dampen his mood, which just depressed me further. I was never fond of mornings, and being seriously deprived of sleep for a week was not helping.

"Come on, you little miss sunshine," he joked, and patted the bed. "Come here."

"I am busy," I told him, fixing the flowers and moving the bottles of potions around. Two days ago he moved into this private room, neat and free of magical hums. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to distract me here- the room was much smaller, and there was only so much area that I could clean about.

He knew this, of course. So he just sat there quietly, with his unnerving eyes following my every movement, until I ran out of things to arrange. I swore to myself that I would not look at him. He could read me too easily now, and I wasn't comfortable with that. Defiantly, I turned my back and began to untie the curtains that I had just tied minutes ago.

"Luna," I could hear his small sigh. "What _are_ you doing?"

I turned away from the window and twisted my hands together, hating the tension in the air. It made my hands clammy and my heart thump painfully in my chest.

"Come here, sit with me."

I obliged, and sat down on the edge of the bed. The satin sheets were cool under my legs. He shifted back to make room for me, and my elbow bumped into his knee as I moved.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Where are you going?" He grabbed my arm and stopped my shying away. I glanced at him. His eyes were serious.

"Do you have something to say?" I asked, not understanding why it came out like a whisper. _Just get it over with, _my mind urged. It had been like this for several days, and I knew there could be no further postponement to the issue.

_What issue? _

This I did not know. And fear for the unknown was the greatest fear of all.

"Yes, in fact I do," his voice dropped as well, and the thumping in my ears grew until it hurt so much that I could not speak. I nodded.

"There's something that I should- I meant to, tell you long ago," he began, his voice suddenly uncertain. "But somehow I never- this is harder than I thought. You'll just have to listen."

I shrugged to show him that I had no intention to interrupt.

"I like you, Luna," his eyes were on mine now, and I felt as if all wind was knocked out of me, but I made no attempt to look away. "I have liked you for a long time."

When did he place his hand on mine? Again I did not take it back. I doubt that I could even if I'd tried. I felt like I was a puppeteer, only all strings of control were cut off, and the puppet had come to life, and I was helpless but to watch the drama before me unfold itself.

"-so long that I couldn't remember," he was saying. "Was it when you crash-landed on me that day? Was it when I carried you to the Hospital Wing? Or was it when I discovered that you were devoid of any kind of emotions? I don't know. The only thing I know is that I like you, more than anything else, even more than the mild crush I was having on Hermione at that time. I like you so much that I came up with a plan."

"A plan."

"Yes, a plan... that would allow me to be special in your life, a plan that would let me see you regularly and spend time with you alone, a plan that would bring back your feelings, and hopefully develop some towards me..."

"A plan, as in... calculation."

He shook his head and smiled sadly.

"No, Luna. Desperation. Visiting you in the Hospital Wing, seeing you turning cooler and cooler, as if you wanted nothing to do with me-"

I opened my mouth to say something, but he continued without pausing.

"Don't you see it now? It's something I came up with in desperation. Merlin curse my _plan,_" he spat the word. "I lied to Dumbledore, I lied to myself, and most of all, I lied to you."

"I don't understand."

He forced a laugh. "You never do, or so I thought. And that's the root of our misery."

"Kindly speak in English, please," with my head reeling, I really could not deal with riddles. I rubbed my temples wearily.

"I am a fool. And a coward. If only I had seen it- it was right there- you were so _clearly_ in love with me!"

As my deepest secret was being reaped out of my chest and laid bare in front of him, my initial response was to deny. But before I could as much as part my lips to protest his presumptuous exclamation, he laughed again, this time with a glint in his eyes.

"Don't you dare to say otherwise. I read it in your diary."

"My dia- how-"

"The spell you used... let's just say it hasn't worked too well."

"How dare you-"

"The Latin for 'word' is _verbum, _I think. But that's not the point," he placed an arm around me and pulled me closer. I was too stunned to react. "The point is, you had feelings for me, and that's why you were cold to me. I, of all people, should have noticed it earlier.

"But I am only human, and I guess my own feelings blinded me somewhat. I couldn't bear the thought of, of just greeting you in the corridors and seeing you in the Great Hall during lunch, so terribly polite and- _just friends_. So I came up with this idea."

"So, the whole therapy thing is a fraud?"

"No. I honestly wanted to... _restore_ you, if you don't mind the term. You've no idea how much it pained me to see you go through everyday as if nothing matters. Your blank face troubled me, even in my dreams, and I made it my mission to bring something, if not joy, into your life. I want to make you smile, because that is the most beautiful thing to me.

"And this has become another purpose in my life, besides my Auror trainings... I want you to know that many times, many, many times, it is you that kept me working through the week... the thought of you, waiting for me at the weekend. It's a sort of a goal-line to me."

I stared at him, my head screaming for myself to wake up. Ron Weasley, confessing his love for me? It was too dreamy to be true. On the outside, I kept my cool and gave nothing away, except maybe the chewing of my lip. I tried to make it look like a thoughtful gesture rather than a nervous one.

"I looked forward to meeting you every week, and always struggled when I had to leave, to be away from- anyway, I know this would not last. One day you would graduate and have your own life, but I never gave up the hope that one day you would have your feelings back, and you would then understand what love is. I waited week after week, praying that you would come to know the emotion called love, when I could tell you, how much I love you."

"But I know it all along."

"You told me you didn't, remember? And I believed. The coward in me stopped me from telling you my true feelings. If only I had listened to the Griffindor instead..."

"Then I wouldn't have suffered for so long... the weekly tortures..." my voice broke and the tears I tried so hard to hold at bay tumbled down.

"If only... if only, oh, I am sorry, I am sorry."

He continued murmuring until my sobs subsided. Pushing a stray tear from my cheek, he said,

"At times I- I was so anxious to force you to be happy and treated you like- a project, as you described. I am really sorry, Luna. I didn't mean to."

My tears welled up again and threatened to fall at his sincere tone. I brushed them away as furtively as I could.

"However, I must point out that- ahem," he cleared his throat, a slight hint of amusement on his lips. "That the many- erm, how should I put this- things that seem to elicit your jealousy regarding Hermione, ah, they're entirely imaginary and based on no truth whatsoever."

My cheeks burned. I was so embarrassed that I didn't even reprimand him for reading my private journal.

"I did not rush here every week to see Hermione, and when you saw us in Hogsmeade, she was helping me to choose your Christmas present. At any rate, we are and will always be only friends, and she knows all about my feelings to you, so-"

"She knows?" I gasped. Merlin, she must have held her side and laughed every time I threw her a sour glare.

"Everybody knows," he raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding, Luna? I was nothing but _obvious. _As in obvious with a capital 'O'."

I groaned. "No you were not."

"Why do you think I was all upset about Keyes?" He rolled his eyes. "Because his brain looks bigger than his arse? No! Merlin, because he was with _you! _I was so depressed and ready to give up when Ginny told me that you two were just friends, like Hermione and I."

"What? Ginny-"

He cut me off by taking both my hands and pressing his lips against mine. Our first kiss was everything I imagined: his moist lips on my dry ones, his long nose and my flying hair getting in the way, and it was perfect.

"I hope that clears up any doubts that you were having," he said when we broke apart, his forehead touching mine. It was the first time I looked so closely into his pupils, and they reflected a lovely girl with dirty-blond hair and a smile on her face. So not me, but at the same time, so definitely me.

* * *

"You know, Luna, I planned on confessing when we return to Hogwarts," Ron said one day, after his ritual 'what a beautiful morning' speech. I busied myself around the room, preparing for his returning home later that afternoon.

"But since we never made it to Hogwarts, and I nearly got killed, I thought, 'Hell, I really don't want to die with her not ever knowing that I love her,'" he went on, apparently not minding my lack of response. "And now, I am going to do something totally out of character."

"Which is?" I asked absentmindedly, focusing my energy on shrinking his robes.

"I am going to quote something from Dickens," he said proudly.

I stopped for a second, making sure that I wasn't hearing things. "Since when did you pick up on Muggle literature?"

Then he started reciting, his voice deep and full of meanings.

"I loved her simply because I found her irresistible. Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that cold be. Once for all; I loved her none the less because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection."

"That's from the Great Expectations," I said softly after a moment of silence, my back still facing him.

"Yes," he replied gently.

"Out of character, indeed," I turned to him and was again surprised by the softness on his face.

"Hermione often quotes that when talking about Snape."

"Then why are you quoting it to me?" Walking over to him, I asked.

"Because it's the true," he replied, standing up. He lifted my face and stroked my cheek with a finger. "Also because I know you've been wanting to ask."

"Why do you love me?" I asked anyway.

"People say that when you love somebody, there is no reason behind it. I think that's true," he paused. "But only because there are so many things I love about you, that I don't know where to start."

He leaned down and captured my lips, and I smiled into the kiss. For the first time in many, many years, I felt whole again.

* * *

A/N: That's it folks! I hope the chapter is not too sappy for your taste. Stay tuned for the epilogue, which should be up in a week... thanks for the reviews, and keep them coming! I love you all! Anonymous reviewers, please leave your email address if you wish to be put on the mailing list. 


	8. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Nothing related to the HP universe belongs to me.

A/N: Here it is, folks, the epilogue. -looks at the number of chapters and smiles- It's been a long way, but, -wipes a tear- I did it! I finish my first fic! -pats self on the back-

**hollyg20: **-blushes- Thanks! I am glad you like the story.

**Plum Blossoms: **I hope you're feeling better, and thanks!

**Kat: **Aww, don't cry. -hands over hankie-

**snidgetandco: **Thanks! I think Ron and Luna makes a lovely couple too!

**bleedingheart666:** Ow, please don't cry. -hands over another hankie-

**Yav aka Shibs:** Thanks!

**Vulcaine7: **Thanks!

Sit back, and enjoy... the final entry in Luna's diary.

* * *

Final Entry:

"Are you sure-"

"Shhh!"

I swallowed indignantly, but dared not huff aloud. Narrowing my eyes, I tried my best to follow. It was extremely hard to see, let alone follow, him in the dark, his navy blue robes blending in perfectly with the night. I cursed silently at the thin mist that had descended Cornwall tonight, effectively obstructing any light the stars might provide.

On the other hand, this may be the precise reason why Ron chose tonight.

"Ron?" I whispered, suddenly finding myself alone. The shadows were pressing in from all directions now, and it was... unnerving, to say the least. Urgently I called his name again and looked around in hopes of catching a glimpse of his dull rusty hair in the shade. "Where are you?"

Suddenly a hand grabbed my wrist, and before I could cry out another hand clamped itself tightly around my mouth. I panicked and swung my elbow.

"Ooof!" I heard a muffled yelp and relaxed. Ron released me but did not let go of my hand. Firmly but not harshly he led me to a corner, and with another tug pulled me _through _the wall.

"Okay, you can breathe now," he said, his eyes the only thing I could see in the dark, and they were gleaming with amusement. "The guard would not hear us in here."

"How'd you do that?"

"Well, there are things that only Aurors are entitled to know," he shrugged. "Besides, nothing a good meal can't buy. My dueling coach told me about this entrance a few days ago over dinner."

"You _bribed _your coach to get us in here?"

"With those Firewhiskey swimming in his system, it's fairly easy to get him to talk," he said, and we started to walk on the damp grass. "He wouldn't remember a thing... let's not talk about my coach on a date."

We treaded slowly across the pitch. I turned around gradually, taking in the view in front of me: the flat pitch seemed to extend in all directions forever, the goal posts loomed on both ends, and the stands that surrounded the pitch, normally filled with heat and noises, were reduced to shadows against the black sky. The world was still.

"You like it?" He placed his hands on my shoulders, breaking my awed silence. His sound brushed past the back of my ear.

"Yeah," I nodded, leaning back into him.

He traced a line of kisses down my neck, and stopped abruptly. I bit my lip, and asked, "What's wrong?"

"If I don't stop, you'll never be able to see what I've prepared," he said, breathing heavily. I smiled furtively at the knowledge of having the power to make him lose control.

"Close your eyes," he instructed. I fluttered my eyelids shut and heard him muttering a spell. The warmth of magic passed by me, and I ached to open my eyes. Seeming to notice my eagerness, Ron chuckled and cast another spell.

"Can I look now?"

"Not yet... there. You can look."

I needed not be told twice. Snapping open my eyes, the sight before me took my breath away. Thousands of specks of colors were suspended above the pitch, like snowflakes, like stars. In the middle of the lawn was a spread-out cloth, and on it sat a wicker basket.

"This is..." I was speechless for a moment, then exhaled slowly. "...magnificent, Ron."

He smiled in what seemed to be satisfaction, and picked up my hand. "Reckon you'd like the fireflies. C'mon." He led us across the pitch and sat down on the blue cloth on the ground. As I folded my legs beneath me, I looked up to the deep sky at the stars. The magical fireflies blinked around me, tricking me for a minute to believe that I was floating in the heavens. A winter breeze passed by, rafting the smell of dew and grass. Somewhere at the far corner of the stadium, a cricket chirped.

Ron reached into the basket and took out a bottle and two tall wineglasses. Then carefully he poured the golden liquid into the glasses. As the liquor hit the glass, I thought the sound was almost musical. He handed one glass to me.

"We don't have flowers or candles, but we do have some champagne."

I lifted my eyebrow in mock surprise. "You remember what I said?"

"_Please, _I was in love with you back then."

"Already?"

"You're the most oblivious person I've ever met, Luna."

"Ditto to that, Ron."

And we toasted to the two most oblivious persons walking on Earth. A few glasses of the drink later, I found myself sitting comfortably in his lap, his broad stature effectively blocking out the chill. I sighed in content.

He shoved something into my hands. I looked down and saw a pair of flurry white earmuffs. I did not see where he had been hiding them.

"Merry belated Christmas," he said into my ears. I turned quickly, pushing his fervent lips away from my earlobes. He grunted.

"Earmuffs?"

"They're the only thing you tried on in Gladwags that I found attractive." He shrugged. "You don't like them?"

"They're adorable... but earmuffs? _Earmuffs_ turn you on?"

"Not exactly, but I can't find a nice necklace and Hermione said it was too early to give you a ring."

"But haven't you already given me a Christmas gift?" I pointed at the faithful quill writing away on the page. "I think the Quick Quotes Quill is very practical."

He moaned at the quill. "I brought you that in the hope that you might pay more attention to me rather than your blasted journal. But that quill is proving to be just as disturbing, so I'm giving you another Christmas present."

"What about the quill, then?"

"That I'm going to snap in half," he grinned maliciously.

"That's horrible!"

"Not half as much as that infernal scratching on paper." He frowned, a rare expression for him to wear on his beautiful face. "It's really a fool of me to ever ask you to start a diary."

"I told you it was a bad idea," I pointed out. "But I've grown to love it. This journal, in its own way, has brought us together."

"Now that it has fulfilled its purpose of existence, can we get rid of it?" He asked hopefully.

"No!" I exclaimed, "How am I supposed to keep record of... of these wonderful things that are happening to me? What if I forget one day?"

"In that case..."

He pulled me close, one hand holding my head and the other my hand, and pressed his hot lips against mine, tenderly, passionately marking me his own.

"I'll have to remind you often," he whispered when the searing kiss ended.

Our eyes locked, and feelings, long-forgotten feelings, swirled in the depth of my stomach. I did not fully understand what it was, not yet, but there was one thing that I was certain.

"I care about you, Ron. Very, very much."

"That'll suffice for the time-being," he chuckled, before planting another avid reminder on my lips.

_Finis

* * *

_

A/N: -cries- Oh, that is like a child growing up and leaving me!

Thank you all for being with me, reviewing and reading along, thanks for your praises and advices, and thanks for the cookies and cherries I've received. A quick note about the Quick Quotes Quill, I always think it is by some kind of magic connected to the mind of its owner, so that what its owner thinks it will write down immediately. In other words, I think the awful voice Rita Skeeter's quill writes in belongs to herself. Won't it be handy for us writers to have one of those quills? I don't know what to do with all the flea-ridden, rabies-infected plot-bunnies jumping and biting around in my room. I guess that means I will have to go and pick one of them up and move on. Thanks once again for reading! I love you!


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